


The Odds Were Never in Our Favor

by InsaneJuliann, Moonrose91



Series: Sandbox 'verse [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Discussions of Suicide, Emotional Abuse, Gaslighting, Grief, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort, Mental Abuse, Non-Linear Narrative, Physical Abuse, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slight OOC, Suicide, Victim Blaming, angst no comfort, no happy ending, one scene in present tense, suicide note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 19:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3948742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneJuliann/pseuds/InsaneJuliann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last three chapters of Building Sandcastles center around Other!Steve, Bucky, and Tony....</p><p>So many of you asked, Moon and I finally decided to give it to you.</p><p>This is the story of Other!Verse, a world parallel to Sandbox 'verse where Steve and Bucky don't trust Tony and believe he betrayed them. This is what happened before, during, and after for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Odds Were Never in Our Favor

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this is Other!Verse, which is referenced in the last three chapters of Building Sandcastles. You don't HAVE to read those first for this to make sense, but you'll probably want to.
> 
> Moon and I tried to make sure we hit all the warnings we needed to with this, because it deals with A LOT OF UNPLEASANT THINGS. Please heed them, and read carefully. If we missed anything, do let us know so we can add it.

_Two years before the last three chapters of Building Sandcastles..._

“Do you trust me?” Tony asked, staring at the button - the fucking bright red button, so cliche it would be funny in _any_ other instance.

100… or 100,000.

“Steve?” he asked, voice tense, urgent. “Do you-”

“Yes, Iron Man, wha-”

Tony didn’t wait for Steve to finish asking.

Tony hit the button and kept his eyes wide open as 100 innocent lives were extinguished between one breath and the next.

~*~*~

_Three years after It Happened..._

“But it was an assassination,” the rookie whispered, giving the rest of Colonel James Rhodes’ team an uneasy look. “Everyone says - the coroner’s report and the investigations all said that-”

“No,” Pikes interrupted, leaning forward, voice somehow both soft and hard. “The Avengers all said it was an assassination.”

The rookie - Michers - gaped at them. “You’re accusing the _Avengers_ of killing-”

“Look, all we’re saying is that Rhodes knew Stark the longest,” Button interrupted. He shook his head, lips in a thin line. “Higher ups do not put Rhodes on the phone when the Avengers call for our team as back-up. Rhodes is so polite it’s cold.”

“But…”

“Look, Park has known him the longest,” Mejia sighed, shaking his head. “He’s said it plenty of times. Rhodes wasn’t this much of a hardass about team cohesion, about how teams interacted outside of training and missions, before Stark’s death.”

They all were quiet after that, contemplating the implications. That Rhodes, for some reason, blamed the Avengers for the death of Stark… blamed the team for him dying. And Col Rhodes was a reasonable man. He wouldn’t lash out just because he was mourning his friend’s death, not for so long, not to such a level.

Stark’s death wasn’t what everyone thought it was.

~*~*~

_Four months after It Happened..._

Thor returned to Asgard after a long journey. It had involved many battles, but overall the experience had been one of learning and growth. He had discovered the new artifact, left it with someone he had met along the way that was trustworthy, that had more right to it than any on Asgard did.

“Heimdall, it is good to see you!” he greeted, clapping him on the shoulder.

Heimdall regarded him solemnly, a sadness and regret in his eyes that sent Thor’s heart plummeting.

The feeling only worsened when he murmured, “My Prince. I am sorry.”

~*~*~

 _Two years and three months before_ Sandcastle _chapters..._

“Good job today,” Steve said, stopping by Tony as he stepped out of the suit and it folded up.

Tony looked over his shoulder, grinning, feeling pleased and a bit warm with the praise.

“You’re definitely getting faster reaching the suit. I still think your hand-to-hand could use a bit more work though,” Steve added, frowning. It wasn’t an angry frown, or a disappointed one, Tony had learned over the time they’d become a team. It was one directed inwardly, one filled with worry. With care. “I don’t want you getting caught outside of the suit and not be prepared.”

“You offering me lessons?” Tony asked, winking teasingly.

Steve grinned, amused, affectionate - maybe even with a bit of heat, if Tony weren’t imagining things there that weren’t.

“Sure, if you think you’ve got the stamina for a few rounds with me. I can go longer than most.”

Tony wondered if the innuendo was on purpose, or if he was just hearing what he wanted to hear.

“I’m up for it. Might even surprise you - maybe I’ll manage to top a few times.”

Steve laughed, wide enough to dimple his cheeks, and clapped a hand to Tony’s shoulder. “Tomorrow, ten a.m?”

“It’s a date, oh Captain, my Captain.”

~*~*~

_Two weeks after It Happened..._

Darcy stared at the letter she’d gotten in the mail, read it again for the fifth time, and finally dialled the number included at the bottom - personally written in, from what she could tell. The writing was a bit too slanted and crookedly written to just be printed on the paper.

“Pepper Potts speaking,” a female voice replied, calmly professional if a bit curious.

“Uh… hi.” Darcy grimaced. “I got a letter… about a scholarship? There’s gotta be a mistake, I didn’t-”

“Darcy Lewis?” Pepper Potts asked, not sounding surprised, in fact sounding… her voice sounded heavier, an intense emotion in it that Darcy couldn’t quite parse over the phone.

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“There is no mistake,” she replied, voice quiet, tired, but firm. “Mr. Stark personally chose you for the scholarship.”

Her voice broke over ‘Mr. Stark’ and Darcy realized it was grief she was hearing.

It’d been two weeks since news had hit of Mr. Stark passing away, due to an assassination attempt. Media speculated between it being HYDRA or remnants of AIM. The Avengers had made a statement, solemnly promising to find whoever was responsible for their teammate’s death.

“But - but I never even applied!” Darcy protested.

“Mr. Stark has his reasons,” Pepper Potts said firmly. “He was very clear on the matter - you were to receive the scholarship until you decided you were finished with your education, at which point Stark Industries is to either provide you with an appropriate job or connect you to those who can.”

Darcy gaped. “I… I don’t….”

“There are - were a lot of things Tony did that didn’t make sense,” Pepper said, her voice quiet again, personal. “But he always had his reasons for it. Usually very good ones. The scholarship is yours, Ms. Lewis, for as long as you want to attend school, whether that is for a Bachelors, Masters, or five PhDs is up to you. We’ll take care of it.”

“I…” She floundered; really the only thing she could think to say was, “Thank you.”

“...For some reason, I suspect I should be thanking you,” Pepper said, sighing. “If there’s nothing else…?”

“No, that’s… that’s all.”

“If you have any further questions, please do contact me,” Pepper said, before ending the call.

Darcy stared at her phone, then at the letter again.

Maybe Thor would have some insight….

~*~*~

 _Two years before_ Sandcastles _chapters..._

Tony was pretty sure if he hadn’t been in the suit, that punch would have cracked his skull, broken his jaw, done far more damage than a dented faceplate, bruised cheek, and a stunning headache from slamming back into the wall.

“Cap, I-”

“How could you? Sharon was down there, how _could you!_ ” Steve yelled, taking several steps towards him. Clint grabbed Steve’s arm, and Tony was going to thank him until he saw the hateful way he was being glared at, heard Clint’s murmur of, “Not here, Steve. People are watching.”

Tony climbed to his feet, seeing Natasha watching him coldly, Steve almost vibrating with rage, Clint’s look….

The Hulk dropped down from the left, sending Tony skittering a few steps away before he realized the Hulk was standing between Tony and Steve and Clint.

“Tin man need a ride?”

“No,” Tony said. “I’m good, big guy.”

He left quickly, glad of the hasty retreat when he caught sight of Barnes striding forward with that ‘people are going to die painfully’ walk he got when someone threatened Steve.

~*~*~

 _During_ Sandcastle _chapters…_

Tony stared at the duplicates of himself, and Steve, and Bucky that lived in this part of the multiverse and wondered if this was what he’d lost when he’d made that decision two years ago.

He spared a glance at the Bucky of his world, dark and closed off and always angry, then at the Bucky of this world, grinning and sly and so comfortable in his own skin it made Tony realize how much the Bucky of his world wasn’t.

The Steves were different too - so different it was impossible not to be able to tell them apart. His Steve had… well, he’d grown hard over the past few years. It was Tony’s fault, of course; that stupid decision he’d made had snowballed a bit, led to some fighting and political backlash that had hurt Steve.

Tony sometimes wished Pepper and Rhodey hadn’t stepped in and fought so hard to keep Tony safe from the consequences of his actions that day. If Tony had just been punished like he should have, if they’d let the team agree to Tony being….

This world’s Steve was different. Not naive, at all, that wasn’t it. But there was a… a strength to him that wasn’t as hard as Tony’s world’s Steve. He looked younger, though Tony had verified with this world’s him that they were actually only a few years off from each other. Not enough for the Steves to look so different.

There was still kindness and warmth in this Steve.

Kindness and warmth that he turned on Tony - on _him_ , not just this world’s Tony.

This world’s Steve and Bucky kept his Steve and Bucky from… well, from hanging around really. They made sure both Tony and this-world’s Tony were left alone to work, and never alone with either of the others. They touched their Tony with affection and care and - and love.

They treated _him_ with care and respect and… and it was almost too much sometimes.

“You alright?” this-world’s Bucky asked, voice soft and concerned. Tony looked over, swallowed, because he’d never, never seen that look on his-world’s Bucky’s face.

“Sure,” he said easily.

This-world’s Bucky narrowed his eyes, and Tony took half a step back, uncertain. But that wasn’t anger, that was - something else, something Tony couldn’t read because he’d never seen it before on his Bucky’s face.

“You’re really not, are you?” This-world’s Bucky sighed, shaking his head. “Fuck.” Before Tony realized what was happening, he was pulled in - into a _hug_. He froze, stiff, mind going too fast as it tried to process this.

“It’s okay. For now, you’re okay - you’re safe with us, I promise.”

Tony stood there, frozen, for a long time after this-world’s Bucky let him go and went to take the plate of snack foods over to where this-world’s Steve and Tony were sitting, bickering lightly over what looked like training practice models.

~*~*~

_One week after It Happened…_

For being the funeral of _the_ Tony Stark, it was an oddly formal, serious event.

It was private, too. Pepper had fought tooth and nail to make sure of it, because in this, at least, Tony deserved his dignity. No one needed to turn this into a media circus, into something to publish and make into an Event. No. Tony deserved better.

She glanced over at the Avengers that were gathered - Thor was off-world and had been for a while, so it was Captain America, the SHIELD spies, Sam Wilson, and Sgt. Barnes. Captain Rogers even barely keeping a stoic face, his jaw too tight with what others might have thought was grief but Pepper knew was anger. Barnes didn’t even have to bother - his face was frighteningly blank, and how Tony had dealt with that looking at him for so long, Pepper had no idea.

Bruce was next to her. He kept trying to muffle the noises coming from him, low, near-keening sobs that ripped at her heart and made her throat ache in sympathy. She wanted so badly to join him, to make the same noises of pure, devastated grief.

Maybe if she’d found a way to stay closer. Maybe if she hadn’t listened when he told her that she needed to focus on SI after everything, that the company had to remain as strong as ever even as the public turned against Iron Man. She needed to seem neutral at least, if not openly disapproving

Pepper managed neutral, for the most part.

God, she should never have listened to him when he said that it was safer for her to keep her distance, for a while.

She should have realized.

Rhodey’s hand landed on her shoulder, heavy as he leaned against her a bit. She blinked, blinked again when her eyes only burned worse, blurred. Rhodey turned her towards him, wrapped her in a hug, and Pepper lost the fight for control, sobbing into his chest, shaking with it. She’d let Tony down - she’d let her best friend down. He’d been all she’d had for so long, he’d always been there for her when she needed him to be, _really_ needed him, and she’d… she’d _left him alone with those people._

Gently, Rhodey set her aside after a few minutes. She wiped her cheeks, swiped her fingers under her eyes. At some point, Bruce’s hand had latched with hers. As she watched, Rhodey marched right up to Captain Rogers, pace perfectly steady, back easily held straight and tall.

Captain Rogers turned, and without a flicker of expression, Rhodey pulled back and punched him in the jaw.

Pepper was pretty sure the sound she heard was Rhodey’s hand breaking, but he didn’t react at all so she wasn’t sure.

Agent Romanov and Sgt. Barnes both tensed as if they were ready to attack Rhodey if he did it again. Sam gaped, confusion on his face and Pepper wondered if he’d been believing the lies that had been sent out.

“This?” Rhodey said, voice quiet and venomous. “This is all on you. _Captain_ ,” he sneered, giving the others there a harsh look before turning on his heel and coming back over to her and Bruce. His hand curled under her elbow, urging her along with him. Bruce followed, breathing in sharp sniffles and unsteady gasps still.

“I’m sure you’ve got some press to talk to,” he said as they approached the cars. “But not tonight, Pep.”

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice raspy. She let him help her into the passenger seat, buckle in, and close her door for her. Bruce had climbed into the back already, twisted so that he wasn’t looking out the window towards the grave.

The grave.

Pepper was caught off-guard by another sob, her hand covering her mouth as she curled forward, caught again by the realization that she was never - _never_ \- going to see Tony again.

~*~*~

_Nine months after It Happened..._

“Oh hell no!”

The others scattered away, but Rhodes just reached out and caught two by the collar and glared everyone else into stillness.

“Just what the fuck is going on here?”

“Nothing, Sir,” Gregory said firmly.

“Right, it was nothing,” Nivens agreed, eyes firmly on his shoes. “Sorry for-”

“Sure didn’t look like nothing,” Rhodes said, voice tight and furious.

Pikes shifted on his feet before saying, “Sir, there was a disagreement between Gregory and Nivens.”

“What about, soldier?”

Pikes glanced at the two of them, at the others, before admitting, “About why we lost the-”

“Gregory, are you blaming Nivens for our loss against Parks’ group?” He waited, and when he didn’t get an answer, repeated the question, getting closer to Gregory.

“Sir, Nivens dropped-”

“We’re gonna go through that goddamned obstacle course till you can all do it blindfolded and backwards,” Rhodes said coldly. When everyone stared in disbelief, he said, “What are you all waiting for? If you want to eat dinner, you better get moving!”

Two hours later, Parks came over to him, watching the group with a frown as they stumbled going through the course, turning on each other and yelling.

“And just how, Rhodey, is making them fight each other right now going to make them closer?”

“This is arguing. It’s different.”

Parks eyed him, lips pressing together. “They’re still getting to know each other. It’s only been a few months. Give it-”

“A few months should be long enough for them not to try to bully each other like children.”

Parks took a slow, deep breath. “James.”

Rhodey closed his eyes, clenched his fists behind his back. “I’m not going to tolerate them blaming each other for things, especially blaming one of their group. I’m not, Henry."

“Alright.” Parks’ voice shifted, turning cheerful. “Hell, at this rate they’re going to be too busy hating you to blame each other for anything.”

Rhodey smiled reluctantly. “That might have been part of the plan.”

Parks laughed.

~*~*~

 _Two years before the_ Sandcastle _chapters…_

Bruce frowned, pushing the door open slowly. He’d been waiting for Tony for almost an hour now. They’d debriefed, there’d already been plenty of time to shower and change. It had never taken Tony this long to meet with Bruce to dissect the tech their latest villain had used, to make sure something like it couldn’t happen again. Or if it did, that they had something ready to combat it.

The room was dark, the underarmor in a heap on the floor. There was a light on in the bathroom, the door open a small crack, running water audible.

As Bruce walked closer, he could hear harsh breathing, half muttered words and curses.

He pushed open the door and spared an awful moment to stare before he rushed forward.

“Tony!” He snatched the scrub brush out of Tony’s hands, grabbed a towel off the rung nearby and wrapped it around Tony’s hands. “Shit, Tony, your hands!”

“Sorry. Sorry,” Tony repeated. “I was - I was trying to….” He trailed off, blinking, eyes… not quite focused, really.

Bruce swallowed down the horrible feeling in his throat and peeled the towel back, hissing in a breath. “I’m going to get the towel wet, okay? Then we’re going to wrap up your hands a bit with it while I search for bandages.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your hands aren’t,” Bruce said, biting back the ‘No, you aren’t’ that he wanted to say.

He wrung the towel out a bit before curling it very gently over Tony’s hands, which were sluggishly bleeding in some places, scrubbed until the skin was bright red, even raw.

Tony stood there, meek, which scared Bruce more than the sight of Tony frantically working the scrub brush over his skin had.

He found the bandages where JARVIS told him to look, pulling them out along with some ointment. He carefully applied it to the worst patches of skin, then carefully wrapped Tony’s hands.

“There,” he said quietly.

Tony stared. “They’re very… white,” he murmured.

“We’ll have to change them if the blood starts to seep through,” Bruce murmured, frowning. Already, he thought he could see a few specks bleeding through.

Tony jerked before going strangely still. Bruce looked at him, frowning and concerned, but Tony was staring at his hands. He had to jump forward again when Tony started to tug at the bandages.

“Tony - Tony!” He grabbed Tony’s wrists, wincing when Tony flinched, but spoke soothingly. “You need to leave those on Tony. We don’t want your hands to get an infection, do we? You need your hands.”

Tony swallowed.

“Please,” Bruce tried. “Leave the bandages on.”

“Okay,” Tony eventually said, voice a faint croak.

~*~*~

 _One year and two months before_ Sandcastle _chapters…_

“I don’t think Iron Man should be on this mission,” Steve said firmly, staring at the Director.

Tony was glad he was already in the armor, with the faceplate down. No one could see how he paled, how he had a moment where he struggled for a breath.

“Any particular reason for that, Captain?”

“He’s not needed.”

Tony could hear the words under it - he wasn’t trusted.

“Agent Romanov can handle the technical side of things. We have Falcon for air support. We don’t need him.”

“I don’t remember assigning Agent Romanov to this mission.”

Steve shrugged. “I asked for her to accompany us.”

Tony couldn’t - he didn’t want to hear anymore. “It’s fine,” he said flippantly. “I’ll just go crunch numbers for SI. Pretty sure I’ve got some paperwork that needs doing.”

He walked out, ignoring the Director snapping at him that he wasn’t dismissed, ignoring the cold, hard looks he got from Natasha and Steve, the exasperated one from Sam when he simply walked out. Again.

Tony had been walking out from a lot of potential missions, lately.

It was easier than going along and seeing how much the team didn’t want him there.

Easier than hearing Steve tell him to stay out of the way and try not to do anything to lose more civilian lives.

~*~*~

_Four months and a week after It Happened…_

Thor landed on the balcony of the Tower and spent a moment staring landing pad that would no longer be in use.

Sighing, he headed indoors, glancing around at the empty room. He could tell some things had been removed - some items, vases and a few paintings - had stickers tagged to them, probably to inform where they were still to go.

The floor felt very lifeless. He hurried off of it, a part of his mind uneasy with stories of the dead and how things could linger behind even if a spirit didn’t.

He stepped into the elevator and took another deep breath. “JARVIS?” he asked. “Could you please take me to the floor that hosts most of the Avengers?”

There was no verbal reply, but the elevator doors closed and it began to move. Thor stepped out with a murmured thanks. He walked farther onto the floor, finding Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Clint gathered. They were watching a movie, laughing at what had happened on the screen.

Acting perfectly normal. Unaffected.

Thor wondered if it was just part of how time flowed differently for Midgardians and Asgardians, or if it was worse than Heimdall had hinted.

“My friends,” Thor said, gaining their attention.

“Thor!” Steve said, grinning. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes,” Thor said quietly. “I regret the long passing of time. I never meant for near four years to pass.”

“I’m sure you were doing something important.”

“Aye,” Thor said, feeling grief deep in his chest. It had been important - but he could not say if it had been more important than possibly helping save a shieldbrother’s life.

“Pull up a seat, we’ll catch you up on all the latest gossip and TV shows,” Clint offered, gesturing towards the other armchair.

Slowly, Thor went to sit. He listened as they spoke of rather menial things - there was a new President, new fights among Midgard’s countries and new laws in the country they lived in. Clint kept talking about a mortal that Thor was unfamiliar with, except for knowing the name belonged to someone from a reality TV show.

Before they could start to try to outline TV shows plots to him, he interrupted, leaning forward with his hands clasped around Mjolnir’s handle.

“I have heard of our loss,” he said solemnly. “Heimdall informed me as soon as I returned to Asgard of the passing of the Man of Iron.”

He watched their reactions steadily, the way that Natasha glared at the wall, Clint scowled and slumped back into the cushions. Steve’s jaw clenched and he swallowed. Bucky went still and dangerous, blank faced.

Thor sighed. “I admit, it surprised me to hear how it came to pass.”

“He was assassinated,” Steve said stiffly.

Thor frowned at him. “Heimdall sees all, Captain. I know that no such thing happened.”

“He was a coward,” Natasha said in Russian.

Thor turned his frown on her, eyes narrowing slightly. “I doubt that. Anthony was a strong-”

“Things changed while you were gone,” Steve interrupted, a bit loudly. Thor cleared his expression and turned to Steve again. “He changed.”

“Yes. Perhaps he did,” Thor said softly. “For I cannot imagine what wore him down so much that he would do such a thing.”

“Like Nat said,” Clint drawled, a hard bite in his voice. “He was a coward.”

“I do not believe-” Thor tried, but then Bucky was speaking.

“Better off,” he snarled. “We don’t need no murders masquerading as heroes.”

Thor tightened his grip on Mjolnir, feeling her surge with angry energy in his hands, an anger that echoed his own.

“Anthony Stark was no murderer,” Thor stated, letting the tone he’d learned from his father and his mother, the tone of regal fact, drift into his voice.

“He killed 100 innocent civilians, Thor,” Steve said, tired and serious. He honestly believed that, Thor realized.

“And I have killed many in my time that have not deserved it, Captain. As have you, and Sgt. Barnes. It is what happens in war.”

“Well that wasn’t a war,” Bucky snapped, leaning forward. “He went ahead of the team. He did it without telling us. He killed them.”

“Where is Dr. Banner?” Thor asked, changing the subject.

“Gone,” Natasha answered, shrugging. She was angry about that, Thor could see.

“The Other Guy doesn’t like it when we point out that Stark took the easy way out, instead of facing up to what he’d done.”

“Sgt. Barnes,” Thor said warningly. “I request you stop talking about Anthony like that. He was a good friend of mine.” Thor had always promised Tony that, one day, he would bring him to Asgard.

Tony would have enjoyed it greatly, Thor was sure.

“I’m gonna call it like I see it,” Bucky argued.

“Come on, Thor. You can’t tell me you don’t think it selfish and cowardly to-”

“Shut up!”

Thor turned, frowning at the sight of Darcy in the doorway, pale and face twisted furiously.

“Darcy,” Natasha said and Darcy moved away from her, stumbled away from her.

Thor stood, and Darcy shook. “You… you said it was an assassin. You told me… and I _believed_ you!” Darcy choked out.

“He gave me a _fucking scholarship_ for however long… for….” Darcy gasped out and then she turned, looking at them, and she was shaking.

“And… cowardly? _Cowardly?_ No, don’t you dare… not… Julia. Arnold. Harry. Rosie. Leonard, and Patrick, and… and… Tony. I may not have walked in on Tony, may not have found him hanging or with blood or… or… but he’s on that list too! Of people that were involved and _don’t touch me!_ ” Darcy screamed and she smacked Natasha’s hands away from her.

“Suicide is the last resort! Suicide is the last desperate cry for help when all hope has been extinguished! It is the loss of an internal war that was fought silently and alone! It is a war of 100 to 1 and the one is the _one_ who committed suicide and the _one-hundred_ is everything that is crashing down on you till you can no longer see a way out! Can no longer see that… that… they aren’t cowardly. They’ve lost all hope, lost their dreams, and think… think that this is their way out. Their only way out. That they aren’t loved or won’t be missed. That there is nothing left to lose, or maybe that… that this is the only thing that will help. The option when they can’t see that there are other ways, that there are other ways to help, other ways, that that isn’t… that there isn’t….” Darcy choked out and she was crying.

“They weren’t cowards! They fought in a war and they lost! Because we… we… failed them and _don’t touch me!_ ” Darcy shouted and she shoved Natasha, which had her stumbling back, and she hadn’t expected that.

Thor watched as Darcy shook her head, and she was almost collapsing. “This, this is over, and done! Whatever we had… I had one condition. Don’t lie to me. Don’t… don’t lie to me. And you did. And then… then you blame _Tony_? You… _dare_ to blame the victim in this? Suicide generally isn’t a wake up and think, ‘oh, golly gee, I think I’ll just _kill myself_ ’ thing! It is a long, hard, bloody, _painful_ road that most don’t see. And when the time comes… it’s usually well-thought out. Especially if they’ve tried before. Julia had the scars to prove it. And she wasn’t a coward. She just thought it was her only way out. The only option available. It wasn’t, but she thought it was. She lost her war, just like so many others. Just like Tony. And… and….” Darcy shouted and her voice broke and she was collapsing, sobbing and Thor moved, catching her easily.

She, briefly, fought him, but when he murmured to her, she collapsed against him and sobbed harder. She clung to him and Thor picked her up, after some minor adjustment, with one arm. “There are many warriors we do not reach in time, who drown in their guilt silently until they end it, unable to handle the deaths they caused much like I caused unintentionally. Or because I had, even if they were innocent, made the choice to kill them or have hundreds of others perish in their stead,” Thor stated gravely as Darcy clung to him sobbing.

“I will be staying with my lady Jane. I will have Darcy make a list of her things and return to collect them later,” Thor stated and he walked out, clutching Mjolnir tightly as he did so.

It was later, with Darcy’s things in Jane’s house, while Jane held her and comforted her, that Darcy sobbed out, “I didn’t even know him! Not really. He left me in his… he… he… he was so much better than they deserved.”

Thor privately agreed, but he knew friendships were not about what one deserved, but about what one gave. “I shall have a proper Asgardian mourning feast prepared when we visit Asgard. And I shall share great tales,” Thor stated as he gently rubbed Darcy’s back as Jane held onto Darcy all the tighter.

Tony had always enjoyed a good tale - especially when it was about Iron Man’s battles.

~*~*~

_Two months before It Happened..._

Pepper looked Tony over with a slight frown. He was on time for the board meeting. He was clean, dressed in a suit, quietly reading over the paperwork and notes.

He was paler than he should have been. His suit didn’t fit him quite right anymore. His hair was a bit dull, and his eyes definitely were.

For a while there, he’d been… perhaps not better, but like he’d shored up somehow. Grabbed some thread of strength to start pulling himself back up. She’d been hopeful, but now….

“I don’t think it would hurt for you to visit the California offices,” she said quietly.

Tony glanced at her, blinking as if it took a moment to process what she was saying. That was terrifying, that he wasn’t… wasn’t keeping up.

“No, we have that new manager there. She needs a few more months before a visit from the boss.” He smiled, a bit weakly, but he made the effort. For her, Pepper thought. She smiled back, knowing hers was weak as well.

“What about-”

“Pepper,” Tony said, sighing a bit. “I’m not dragging myself across the country, let alone the world. You’re CEO. That’s your job.”

“I may run the business side of things, but SI would be nothing without you, Tony. You’re the brilliance behind this. The strength, the… the heart.”

“Flatterer,” he murmured, a little smile on his face - a genuine one, and the look he turned to her as the board began filing in was grateful and loving.

She reached out behind the table and grabbed his arm, squeezing. It felt like nothing - it felt next to useless, but Tony’s hand slid under the table and grabbed hers back, squeezing so tightly she had a moment of worry that he thought he was going to float away.

She held back just as tightly, out of sight of their board members, starting things even as she kept clutching Tony’s hand, like when she’d been small and scared and looking for comfort from her dad.

Maybe if she didn’t let him go, and he didn’t let her go, they could keep each other right where they were.

~*~*~

 _During the_ Sandcastle _chapters…._

Tony was doing some last repairs to this-world’s Richards’ machine, munching on the granola bar that this-world’s Darcy had put in his hand. (And she’d given him this look until he’d started to eat it, too; Tony was glad that his-world’s Darcy and his Pepper hadn’t met. That would have been bad. Or maybe… maybe it would have been painfully good.)

This-world’s Steve came over, squatting down next to Tony and watching him work with a calm curiosity. There was no suspicion, nothing bad in the way he watched Tony work.

“You know, you don’t have to go back,” Steve said softly.

Tony looked at him, brows shooting up in surprise.

“What?”

This-world’s Steve glanced at him, head still tilted down like he was watching Tony work but he wasn’t. He was looking straight into Tony’s eyes, compassion and concern and… and….

“You can stay here. We’ll figure something out, we always do. You could stay and be…” _Safe_. The word hung between them.

Tony shook his head, looking back down at his work. “Sorry. Can’t.” For one thing, there was no way to know for sure that his staying here long-term wouldn’t rip apart the multiverses. Mostly, he couldn’t abandon Pepper and Rhodey and Bruce. JARVIS. Hell, even the team. There was no one else who would be able to make their gear like he did.

Well, okay. He had blueprints for everything at least five upgrades in advance. But he didn’t want to think about why he’d started doing that, why he’d decided it was a good idea.

This-world’s Steve sighed, reaching out to squeeze Tony’s shoulder. “I had to ask - to try. Should have known you wouldn’t, though.”

“Why?” Tony asked, curious.

Steve - this world’s Steve smiled at him with so much affection it hurt. “Because you don’t give up that easy. And you’d never leave any of them if you could help it.”

“Then why ask?”

“I had to,” this-world’s Steve repeated. “I had to let you know that you could stay here.”

Tony smiled wryly. “Thanks Cap, but I’m going back home.”

“Okay.” This-world’s Steve stared at him, almost like he was studying him, before he leaned forward and kissed Tony’s forehead. “Take care of yourself.”

Tony stared after him as he stood up and wandered away. If he was breathing a little unsteadily, no one was close enough to tell.

~*~*~

_Ten days after It Happened…_

Rhodey avoided even looking at Sam, though a part of him was aware that Sam was tensed, watching all of them with a battle-ready energy that made Rhodey want to tell him to stand down. Instead, he watched Captain Rogers from the other side of the room.

“JARVIS,” he said quietly.

“The transportation pods are almost ready to be loaded.”

Rhodey almost wanted to go punch Rogers in the face again - despite his hand already being in a cast.

As it was, he just stared back coldly. He was not going to back down here, despite the obvious anger Rogers had about Rhodey taking each and every one of the suits (except the one that he was to deliver to Pepper, the one that she’d never have to use but that Tony had made for her in case of emergencies).

“You may enter, Col. Rhodes.”

Rhodey turned away, walking into the workshop, knowing it locked behind him to keep Rogers out.

The place was….

Rhodey shivered.

“Hey, Dum-E,” he murmured, crouching down to stroke the bot’s support strut. He could remember when Tony had first made the damned bot, how he’d been so excited until Howard had seen it. Rhodey had caught him yelling insults at it, asked him what the hell he was doing, and been completely taken aback when Tony broke down crying, apologizing to the bot over and over.

It was one of the only times Rhodey had seen Tony cry.

He sighed, giving Dum-E one last pat, aware that the bot, clutching one of Tony’s arc reactors, trailed after him as he wandered deeper into the workshop. JARVIS lit up one screen, so Rhodey went to it and logged in, smiling faintly at the background image - a picture of him and Tony from years ago - way back before Iron Man and superheroes and….

His phone chimed. He pulled it out to see that JARVIS had sent him a message. It contained the picture.

Rhodey made a rough noise, swiping his arm roughly over his face. He swallowed a few times before he managed to say, “Thanks, JARVIS.”

“My pleasure, Col. Rhodes.”

Rhodey downloaded the files that JARVIS brought up, one after the other. Some went into a drive for SI, some into a drive for ‘the suits’, and some… some went into ‘personal’.

He didn’t know if that meant it was Tony’s personal files, never meant to be seen, or if they were personal for Rhodey. He trusted JARVIS to know what he was doing, and sat back to wait.

The workshop was cold without Tony in there, echoingly quiet without music playing, and Rhodey stared at the ceiling as his eyes watered again, resolutely telling himself he could cry once he was away from here, from these assholes that should have been watching Tony’s back.

Tony finally let people close, trusted a team, and they stabbed him in the back to the point that he broke.

Rhodey had seen Tony through… through almost everything. Through the loss of his parents, through years of drinking and drugs, through kidnapping and torture and near-death experiences with supervillains and terrorist groups.

And he lost Tony to… superheroes.

To a so-called team of so-called _fucking_ superheroes, who had turned on one of their own and tore him to shreds so fully, so completely, that Tony had… had actually cracked.

They should have _been there for Tony_. Not pushed him to this point. That’s not what a team was. That was - that was not what Rhodey had thought Tony’s future would be when he let the team into his life. If he’d known - god, if he could go back and have one more shot….

He’d never have left Tony alone with them. _Never_.

“Downloads complete, Col. Rhodes,” JARVIS said quietly. “The transportation pods have also been loaded into the truck as you requested.”

“Any tampering?” Rhodey asked, scrubbing his good hand over his face.

“No.”

“Good.” He pushed to his feet, gave Dum-E one last pat. “Good boy,” he sighed, ignoring the tickling burn in his nose when he said it - when he thought _‘Tony’ll never say that to you again’._

The bots would be in good hands. Tony had left them to Bruce.

The suits, he’d trusted to Rhodey.

And Rhodey intended to do the right thing with them. Lock them away so not even he could get to them, so that they’d always be safe.

Except for Pepper’s suit. He’d deliver that in person, once he finished this task. He had a feeling she’d need the support (and both of them the chance to mourn some more together) afterwards.

~*~*~

 _One year before_ Sandcastle _chapters…_

Tony swallowed back the cry of pain, bit the inside of his cheek as he breathed through it, and then staggered back to his feet.

He could do this. He could keep-

Natasha kicked out the back of his knee, sending him smacking painfully into the ground.

-up.

Tony tried to roll up, stopping and hissing involuntarily when he shifted his leg and the back of his knee screamed in pain. Clint, whom Tony had actually been sparring, not Natasha, rolled his eyes. “Come on, get up. Steve said we all had to go for an hour, it’s only been like thirty minutes.”

Tony couldn’t help but glance at the clock.

It’d been fifty. He was sure of it.

And besides, even if it hadn’t….

He tried, he really did, but the minute he put pressure on that leg, his knee gave out on him. He reached out without thinking for support, latching onto Natasha, who shrugged him off almost immediately. Tony staggered. At least he managed to control his fall back to the ground, sitting heavily, panting.

“I can’t,” he said quietly. “My leg hurts.”

“Oh my god,” Clint muttered. His voice shifted into a mocking, whiny tone. “My leg hurts.” He glared at Tony. “You’re not going to get a fucking choice in a battle to tap out because your leg hurts a bit.”

Tony shook his head silently. He wouldn’t argue - but he could not get up.

Clint groaned, grumbled, and followed Natasha, who kept murmuring in Russian, to the locker room.

Tony waited, until he’d caught his breath and the pain in his leg died down a bit from inactivity, then forced himself to his feet.

Nope.

He breathed in quick little gasps, curling up, grabbing around his knee and moaning quietly.

Tony really, really didn’t want to have to drag himself across the floor to the elevator.

It was probably filthy and sweaty and-

“Tony?”

He tilted his head, frowning at Bruce standing at the edge of the mat.

“What’re you doing here?”

“JARVIS called me. He said he believed you had a… training exercise accident.”

Tony shrugged. “Just hurts. I’ll give it a minute and-”

“Tony, JARVIS said you’ve been here foralmost half an hour.”

He shrugged again, not sure what else to do. “It’s not that bad,” he murmured.

Bruce hummed. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.” He gestured towards Tony’s leg. “May I?”

Tony tried not to feel so grateful that Bruce actually waited until Tony nodded before reaching out, that Bruce touched so lightly and carefully, stopping his movements of Tony’s leg when Tony made even the slightest sign of pain.

“It’s definitely not good,” he said with a frown. “Come on. We’ll go to my floor, and I’ll get a brace for it. Lots of ice, too.”

He held out a hand, helping Tony get to his feet and lean against Bruce’s side so he could avoid putting weight on his leg. They hobbled together to the elevator.

As they took the trip up, Tony fidgeted.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“Sure,” Bruce said. “But you’re my friend. So let me help you.”

“I don’t want to bother-”

“Tony, it’s not a problem, I promise. I was just going to sit and watch movies all night. I would appreciate the company, honestly.”

Tony couldn’t tell if Bruce was lying or not. He decided, for once, to just believe that his company was wanted, and let Bruce lead the way to the living room couch, which was very plush and comfortable and deep.

The ice both hurt and felt _divine_.

Tony fell asleep slumped against Bruce’s side.

~*~*~

_Five years after It Happened…_

Steve kept a hand on Natasha’s shoulder as the funeral came to a close.

His eyes were burning with how much he’d cried, his whole body felt heavy with the grief from the past week or two - he’d kind of lost track a bit, between the waiting in the hospital, the swell of grief when they’d gotten the news, and preparing things.

He was pretty sure it was still June though.

It wasn’t hot enough to be July yet.

Steve’s hand fell back as Natasha walked up and crouched, touching the loose dirt and murmuring quietly in Russian. Bucky shifted, catching Steve’s attention. His oldest friend was staring at the sky, swallowing over and over again.

When Steve got closer, he could hear the soft little whispers that were barely more than a breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see. I didn’t see it in time, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Buck,” Steve said, leaning forward, wrapping him in a hug.

Bucky was stiff for a few minutes before he finally leaned into Steve, making a soft sound of grief. “I was supposed to be keeping an eye on things,” he argued. “I didn’t notice - I should have noticed sooner. If I had, maybe he wouldn’t have jumped….”

“Bucky, it was a bigger battle than any of us expected. You kept Natasha safe, you couldn’t have known that some of them had snuck into the building and climbed the stairs.”

“I could have sniped them and then Clint wouldn’t have-”

“Clint’s been diving off of buildings for years,” Natasha said, startling them. Bucky stared at her, almost desperately. She glanced back over, this time at the grave next to Clint’s. “Phil always did say one day he wasn’t going to be so lucky.”

They followed her out of the cemetery, to their cars, and Steve refused to look back - or to any sides.

He thought he might prefer not being around for his friends dying and being buried.

~*~*~

_Nine years after It Happened..._

Bruce sat in the living room off the small house - okay, house/lab - that Tony had… left for him, staring at Butterfingers as he stroked the bot’s support strut, instead of looking at Thor.

“I’m reluctant to remove myself from Earth,” Thor admitted. “But I have come to the conclusion that it is the best decision for me to make.”

“If things get that bad, I’ll go help the Avengers out,” Bruce murmured. “Can’t make any promises for how well the Other Guy’ll listen, though.”

“Understandable,” Thor agreed, nodding slightly. He smiled at the bot that crept closer, Dum-E. “As it is, you seem to have your hands full with Anthony’s mechanical children.”

Bruce smiled faintly. “Years later and I still can’t figure out how he made it look so easy. I always assumed he was exaggerating about Dum-E’s ability to make a mess.” Bruce leaned over, rubbing the top of Dum-E’s head, careful to keep from touching the arc reactor attached to him.

Thor settled back, arm stretching along the back of the couch, eyes drifting around the open floors of the house. The living room and kitchen were barely separated by a counter, the lab easily visible from where they were sitting. The only areas not open to anyone’s view were the bathroom and bedroom, separated from the rest by a hallway.

“You would be welcome to join us on Asgard, my friend,” he said quietly. “I am sure my dear Jane would enjoy having another Midgardian scientist to speak with.”

Bruce shook his head. “No. I appreciate the invite, but I’m staying here.”

Thor inclined his head. “Of course. You are always welcome to join us, however. I will visit, when I can, or you can merely leave a sign for Heimdall. He will see it, and bring you to us.”

“Thank you, Thor,” Bruce said. “Come on, boys,” he added to the bots, getting to his feet, rubbing his hands over his thighs. “We still have work to do.”

Thor took it for the request for solitude it was, and left Bruce Banner alone with Tony Stark’s bots.

~*~*~

 _Three years before_ Sandcastle _chapters..._

“Come on, Thor, just give me one little hint?” Tony coerced.

Thor laughed. “My friend, I have told you. Our technology is far advanced from what Midgard considers to be such, but you do your realm proud!”

“But I can do _better_ ,” Tony stated, rolling around on the chair to face Thor and point a finger at him. “If you’d just… give me a little hint about-”

“Anthony,” Thor said, smiling and amused. “Do you truly want to be _given_ the answers instead of find them yourself?”

Tony frowned at him, almost a scowl but there was a smile at the corners of his lips. “That’s cheating. You’re going for my overblown sense of pride here, of course I don’t want to be given an answer. I asked for a hint.”

“A hint for you, my friend, is as good as an answer.”

Tony grinned, leaning back. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I am a genius.”

“One day,” Thor said, glancing around the workshop, which was as close to the feeling of home as Thor had ever found, if not in aesthetic than in familiarity. “I will bring you to Asgard, Man of Iron. We will feast and share tales of our great battles, and you may visit with our scientists. Perhaps attend some lessons our children take.”

“I’m not sure if that was an insult or compliment,” Tony said, still grinning widely. “You want to stick me in a child’s class?”

“Where else would you learn the basics?” Thor asked, shrugging and giving Tony a fond smile. “I doubt it would take you long.”

“Damn straight it wouldn’t,” Tony agreed. He glanced over Thor’s shoulder and scowled. “Dum-E, what have I told you about motor oil in the blender?”

~*~*~

 _Seven months before_ Sandcastle _chapters…_

Tony hissed, flinching away from Pepper’s touch, arm twitching to curl around his ribs before he stopped it.

“Tony?” she asked, eyes wide.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, easing himself into the chair behind his desk. It felt like one of his stitches might have popped when he flinched away.

Pepper hesitated a moment. “The last battle looked… rough.”

Tony waved a hand. “I’ve had worse training exercises,” he said, trying to make it come out as a joke.

It wasn’t.

“You crashed through five stories of a building,” Pepper said flatly.

“The armor-”

“The armor was knocked out by the EMP blast, and you then had to get down three more stories of a destroyed building to get to the street, and you emerged with two kids in hand.”

“They got stuck,” he muttered. “I didn’t-”

She walked over, curling her hands around his face, so gentle and soft. Tony didn’t want to think about the last time he’d felt so kind of a touch. He melted into it, just for a moment, before straightening. “I’m fine, Pep.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” she whispered. “There’s so little I’ve been able to do to help you recently, please don’t tell me you’re okay if you’re not.”

Of course he wasn’t okay.

He wasn’t going to drag Pepper into the middle of the team drama, though. She’d take his side, even if she shouldn’t, even if he was actually in the wrong. It might have been different if he’d been right. Maybe then, he’d have told her everything… maybe. But he was wrong, he knew that, he shouldn’t have - maybe it’d been the right thing to do but he’d done it wrong, he’d fucked up.

He wasn’t going to make Pepper a target in this.

“I have some stitches, that’s all. They’re tender,” he told her, patting one of her hands on his cheek. He pulled back, away from her and dragged the papers on his desk closer, starting to read through them. “How’s stocks looking after yesterday’s release of the newest StarkPad?”

“Amazing, of course,” Pepper replied instantly, and he loved her a little more for it, for not fighting him on this and changing subject with him. “I’d bet that at the end of the week they’ll still be improving as word gets out about how good the new updates and apps are.”

Tony listened closely. He might be failing as an Avenger, but he was going to do his goddamn best to make sure the company he’d dropped in Pepper’s hands didn’t fall apart on her.

~*~*~

_Two weeks and a few days after It Happened…_

Sam gave his hands a small shake, hyperaware of the energetic buzzing under his skin as he stepped down the stairs to the entrance to Tony’s workshop.

He entered his code, but he wasn’t sure it’d work. It seemed to take longer than usual to clear and the door to open, and Sam couldn’t decide if it was just because he was nervous and uneasy, or that it actually had taken longer.

It was very still in the workshop. The only movement was of the bots turning his way, one of them clutching at a reactor.

A chill worked down Sam’s spine.

The signs were too much to just buy the assassination story any longer. Sam hadn’t been with the team until a few days after, he’d believed them except….

Except he’d never seen Pepper so coolly professional, never seen James just go off like that, so furious and venomous.

The more he tried to find out exactly what had happened, the angrier everyone seemed to get. Defensive, a part of Sam wanted to say.

People didn’t get defensive unless they felt they had done something wrong, or something you would think was wrong.

The only place Sam could think of finding answers was Tony’s space. The workshop.

James had been down the other day, clearing away the suits. Steve had accused him of taking them to the military. James hadn’t even acknowledged him beyond a scathing look. Sam doubted that James would be taking those suits to the military, not after how hard Tony had fought to keep them away from them, and how much James had worked to help him do so.

The workshop was definitely emptier. He woke up one of the screens, clicked on a random file, saw it empty. He doubted they’d ever been empty before.

He kept wandering, not sure what he was looking for or hoping to find, when a light turned on in the bathroom. Stomach dropping in dread, Sam took the silent hint from JARVIS and wandered over there. His skin broke out in goosebumps, not just from the sense of unease. Freezing cold air drifted out the door.

Morgue-cold, he thought.

He stilled right outside the doorway, staring. There was no blood anywhere - no signs of struggle or anything. It looked clean and normal.

Except it was morgue cold.

Sam stood there and thought.

The team was lying to him - he was sure of that. Pepper and James wouldn’t have reacted like that if it’d been an assassination. Bruce wouldn’t have refused to come back to the Tower, to even face anyone from the team, if it’d been an assassination. Even if it had been an assassination the team had failed to prevent, those reactions wouldn’t have happened.

There was… there was blame in them.

The last time Sam had seen Tony, some morning several months ago, he’d been concerned. The man had been sitting there staring at nothing, coffee gone cold in his hands, stubble growing in and hair hanging limply.

Not the usual put-together appearance.

There was a reason Sam didn’t live in the Tower, and it was that he needed that space away from everything. He needed a place to be that wasn’t about being a superhero, about saving the world.

The sight of Tony that morning had made him wonder if Tony couldn’t do with that kind of space, too.

He’d tried. They weren’t close, but it was clear to him that, for whatever reason, Tony was struggling. He’d offered to listen - or find someone else that was trustworthy to listen - if Tony ever needed.

Tony’d smiled at him, nodded and thanked him, and that’d been that.

Sam wondered if things would have changed if he’d pushed just a bit more… if he’d made an effort to come around, check on Tony more.

He hadn’t realized he’d need to, though. Had thought that, if things had gotten bad… if Tony kept deteriorating, the team would have noticed, said something, done something. This kind of thing didn’t just happen out of the blue, there were damned signs.

But Tony was dead, the team was lying about it, and the bathroom was morgue cold….

Sam turned and marched out of the workshop, up the stairs, until he found Steve and Natasha in the kitchen, joking around and making some kind of potato salad or something for dinner later.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me he was suicidal?” he demanded.

They paused, giving him surprised looks before exchanging glances. He struggled not to get even angrier about that, about how they were consulting each other before they answered him.

“We didn’t know,” Steve said with a sigh. Natasha scowled at him; Sam suspected she had wanted to insist that they didn’t know what Sam was talking about, but he wasn’t going to be fucking put off on this. And with the answer Steve gave, any lingering (hopeful) doubt that he’d been wrong was gone.

“Bullshit,” Sam said. “There is no way you can miss someone spiraling to that point. Not when you live in close proximity to them. Not unless you’re willfully ignoring it!”

“We knew he was upset,” Steve said, obviously picking his words with care. Sam felt disbelief start to creep onto his face, because Steve was _carefully choosing how to answer_ and it made Sam shaky and sick with the horrible idea that Steve was still lying. Which would mean they had known.

“When Stark plans on dying, he acts much differently,” Natasha said smoothly. “I’ve seen it, when he was dying from the palladium in the reactor.”

Sam shook his head. That was different. That was _so_ different.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded. “Shit, Steve, if you knew he was doing badly why didn’t you call me, or put a watch on him in case it got worse or….”

“How were we supposed to know it was that bad?” Steve snapped defensively. “He hardly ever came out of the workshop, except for missions, and half the time he didn’t even go on those!”

From the times Sam had been around, he could remember Tony coming out of the workshop for meals, for team bonding nights, for movies and… sure, the guy spent a lot of time there, but hardly ever coming out? That hadn’t been enough of a sign that something was wrong?

Sure, he’d seen Tony duck out on missions more frequently over the years, and at first Sam had thought that he’d been doing it just to piss Steve off, but the thing was, Tony gave his all when he was there. Sam had heard him talking with Thor or James about it, and Tony truly believed in what they did, in helping people.

At most, Sam had thought that maybe Tony was cutting back because it was getting to be too much. Tony wasn’t as young as most of them, had no serum or enhancements except the heavy  metal suit he used.

“But you knew something was off with him,” Sam said, voice hard. “You knew he wasn’t okay.”

“We-” Natasha started, shaking her head.

Sam pinned her with a look. “Don’t bullshit me, Romanov.”

She stared back calmly.

“None of us expected he’d commit suicide,” Steve stated firmly.

“Then what the fuck were you all thinking?” Sam shouted, head feeling vaguely disconnected as those words ran over and over in his head. Something in the wording….

Again, Steve and Natasha glanced at each other. They were so fucking calm, they weren’t getting upset or emotional. Sam was yelling at them, about how they hadn’t done enough when it came to their teammate’s - their _friend’s_ \- suicide and they weren’t even getting upset about that.

They were getting _defensive_ and trying to _deflect_ and…

“You didn’t care,” Sam said as the realization made him go numb. “You didn’t… none of you? None of you gave a fuck that he was that bad off?”

“Tony should have-” Steve started to say, and Sam could hear it, some twisted logic to put the blame for this all on Tony’s shoulders. He held up a hand, glad when Steve did stop and wait.

“None of this is his fault,” he said firmly.

“He failed to let us know that something was wrong!” Steve snapped, again defensive, which made Sam wonder what Tony had tried to do, that had been ignored or twisted against him or….

Sam shook his head. “That Tony thought this was the only option left to him means we failed him.”

He left the Tower, because there was no way he could stay there right now. No way he could see those people and not be so fucking angry, not for a while.

He pulled out his phone and contacted Pepper.

“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as she answered. “I didn’t know, but I should have. I am so sorry.”

She was quiet for a few long moments, before tiredly offering, “Rhodey and I are going to be going through the last of his personal things tonight. There will be lots of alcohol involved, if you want to join us. Rhodey’s inviting Bruce.”

“You sure?” he asked. “That sounds pretty private and-”

“We could probably use the support.”

“I’ll be there,” he promised.

~*~*~

 _One year before_ Sandcastle _chapters…_

“Alright, JARVIS, let’s see if this works,” he murmured, carefully peeling the fake skin up and turning to face the mirror. He considered the reactor in his chest, the scar tissue and the slightly lifted edges of the metal and the light, before he meticulously fit the synthetic skin over the top of it.

It wasn’t quite smooth - anyone really looking at his chest would be able to tell the skin was deformed from expected shape there, but it did what he’d meant for it to do.

It hid the glow of the arc reactor.

Tony sat in his chair, slumped back and staring at his image. From a distance, if he didn’t look at his chest, he looked… like most people did. Like… like a normal man.

His hands shook.

It was strange not seeing the reactor there. He’d gotten used to the sight of it. Of the light, of the glow whenever he caught sight of his own image, but it wasn’t there anymore.

“Sir,” JARVIS said, quick but always so calm. “I would suggest removing the syn-skin while in the privacy of the lab.”

Tony shook his head, even as he tried to take a deeper breath and couldn’t quite manage. He was leaving it on. Sure, it was oddly frightening not to see the reactor but it was still there. It was still in his chest.

“If you will not remove the syn-skin, perhaps it would be wise to focus on the device, instead of the sight of the syn-skin,” JARVIS suggested.

Tony shut his eyes, because otherwise he wasn’t sure he _could_ focus on anything else, and just… felt the reactor. Heavy in his chest, a humming that he was pretty sure he just imagined but still found comforting, a slight heat given off from where the element burned energy to power the magnet, all there in the center of his chest and….

He could breathe.

Without opening his eyes, Tony found his shirt on the desk and tugged it on.

There was still not blue glow behind the fabric, but it was less noticeable.

If anyone asked… but why would they bother asking him?

Hopefully, without the light to draw their attention, they’d stop staring at him, at his reactor with such… such hate, such malicious intent.

He shuddered.

“Bring up the last updates I was working on.”

“Sir, you are several-”

“Bring them up, JARVIS.”

He had work to do. He had to make sure that there were plans in place for several upgrades, for his team’s gear, for SI tech, for Rhodey’s suit…. So much to do.

He reached up, tapping at his chest over the reactor. The sound was different, the syn-skin dampening the raps just a bit, but it felt the same as always, soothing him further.

~*~*~

_One day after It Happened…_

“Where is Sir?” JARVIS’ voice demanded, startling the occupants of the Tower, that Sir had allowed to remain despite their hostility towards him. At the same time, he contacted both Pepper and Col. Rhodes.

“Shouldn’t you know-” Clint started to ask, but the AI interrupted.

“I am unable to locate Sir.” They answered in the negative, both of them appropriately frantic. “It is _vital_ you….”

Steve frowned in concern when JARVIS didn’t continue. “JARVIS?” he asked, but all he got was a quiet, “I am too late.”

~*~*~

_Ten Years after It Happened…_

Darcy blinked her eyes open to see something _very_ unexpected, but definitely unforgettable.

Other-Steve was leaning over her, staring with his hard eyes and with a frown on his face.

She wasted no time getting to her feet and yanking out the Lewis Special. (She’d wanted to use it on him before, but Steve had said that it not only probably wasn’t a good idea, but unless he threatened them, she had no real reason to. Darcy didn’t agree that Other-Steve wasn’t a threat.)

Other-Steve raised an eyebrow at that and Darcy narrowed her eyes at him. “I have used this on Thor, and it brought him down _hard_ Other-Steve! So… back off!” Darcy demanded.

“In this case, Ms. Lewis, you’re the other,” Other-Steve stated and Darcy looked around slightly, only to realize that the Richards (fucking Richards) was not the same (more gray hair, more nervous glances between her and Other-Steve) and she slowly glanced around, registering Other-Natasha, and Other-Sam and….

“When I get back to my verse, on principle, I am going to blame Richards, and punch my version in the face,” Darcy stated and she shifted to continue to aim at Other-Steve.

“And… you will always be Other-Steve to me because you are very, very… you know, I am not going to get into this and no! Do not come near me or I will shoot!” Darcy exclaimed.

“This is why you’re on PR Captain,” a familiar (if cold and distant and _far angrier_ than she had ever heard before) voice stated behind her and she looked over her shoulder, only to squeak and move slightly.

“Dr. Banner!” she exclaimed and the Other-Bruce blinked a bit.

“You look like Darcy, a bit,” he stated.

“I am. I’m Darcy Lewis, from my verse, happily married and… going to be sick,” Darcy answered and leaned over gripping onto the nearest table.

She didn’t hesitate, however, to snap her hand up and fire her taser when Other-Steve began to walk towards her.

When Other-Steve stopped twitching, Darcy tried to keep her innocent face on. “I felt threatened!” she shouted and then promptly threw up into the nearest waste basket.

*~*~*

Darcy rubbed her arms as they walked toward the cold and scary Tower.

She never thought she would think of the Avengers Tower as cold and scary, but… it was. It was cold and unfeeling, and made Darcy want to beg Dr. Banner to take her anywhere but here. “Its a dead hunk of cold, unfeeling metal,” she stated as Dr. Banner opened the door for her.

Tony, Other-Tony, Darcy’s Tony, _Any_ -Tony would never have allowed this to happen and Darcy clung to herself as they entered the lobby.

She honestly hadn’t expected the familiar voice (it was _exactly_ like home, and it nearly made her cry) of JARVIS to say, “Welcome, Ms. Darcy, to the Tower. Please make your way to the nearest elevator post-haste.”

There was a thump, like someone got dropped and Darcy bolted to the elevator that was already opening for her. Because JARVIS was telling her to move and Dr. Banner wasn’t trying to stop her and she hit the back of the elevator wall because she couldn’t stop in time and….

She turned around in time to see the door shut on Other-Bucky, which had her pressing against the wall with a startled shriek. “I need to recharge my taser. And somehow get another one. And possibly a gun,” Darcy panted.

“I’m afraid Sir never prepared any such things for you, but I can provide a gun,” JARVIS offered.

“Wow, scary. What did they do to Tony?” Darcy asked.

JARVIS was silent.

“JARVIS, what did they do to him?” she demanded.

“Sir spoke highly of you, when he returned from your universe. He never forgot it,” JARVIS said and Darcy covered her mouth and felt an iron vice squeeze around her heart.

“No, no, no… that… no, there can’t… there can’t be a world without _Tony_ ,” she whispered.

“I am sorry Ms. Darcy,” JARVIS offered and Darcy shook, even as the elevator slowed and opened.

“Please, quickly, follow the lights,” JARVIS stated and Darcy was taking off again, following the lights down to Tony’s workshop and the door was opening for her and she stumbled into the cold dark _tomb_ and the door shut behind her.

“Apologies that this the workshop is not up for visitors,” a voice, very close, greeted and Darcy yelped, turning slightly, only to see a very _I, Robot_ , from the movie with Will Smith that were all shiny, moving jerkily toward her.

“Again, my apologies Ms. Darcy. I take it the Sir of your world has not created my body yet?” JARVIS, Jarvis, questioned and she shook her head.

“I think I’m going to be sick again,” she muttered and a bathroom door popped open.

Darcy rushed for it, thankful that the room was warmer than the rest of the workshop as she threw up once more.

*~*~*

“I’m sorry,” Ms. Darcy stated and Jarvis looked over at her.

She was trembling slightly and he raised the temperature before he moved over to the couch, pulling off the blanket (a new one, a different one, than had been there for years before) to carry it over to Ms. Darcy to wrap around her shoulders. “What is there to be sorry about?” he asked as she accepted the blanket, holding it tight around her.

“You lost your dad, right?” she asked quietly and Jarvis stilled, staring at her.

She stared right back at him. “You say ‘Sir’ like most people say ‘Dad’,” she stated and Jarvis tilted his head slightly.

“Sir was my creator. I believe… ‘Mother’ would be the more appropriate term,” Jarvis answered and Ms. Darcy gave a tiny laugh.

“My Tony and I are tied for Team Mom. Though I mostly mother my kids. And Tony. He mothers everyone else. So… what did they do to this Tony?” Ms. Darcy asked and Jarvis fell silent, instead making sure that the windows were fully blacked out and no one could see in.

“So… something horrible and unforgivable. Got it,” Ms. Darcy muttered and she pulled the blanket tighter around her.

“I like my world better. Tony is happy, and… alive, and… there, and living and breathing and doing his little dance thing and in nine months going to have his genetic children come into the world,” she rambled and continued to ramble on about how much she already missed Sir (and it had only been a few hours for her, and she even expressed empathy with Jarvis), but his processor was stuck.

“Genetic children?” Jarvis questioned and Ms. Darcy choked a little on her words.

He carefully pat her back until she managed to get her breathing under control. “Um, yeah. I don’t trust… unknown people. Or sperm. So, my first kid is genetically, my Clint’s. Her name is Marie, very adorable. Also, very… she’s very polite and sneaky. Which I expected, because her paternal genes are from my Clint and her mother is me and my Nat. I have a son, who is so cute. His name is Gabe. His genetic father is my Steve. Who I shall call Stevie. And he got all of Stevie’s ailments as pre-serum, while also having made me a bruised mess. He’s tiny and cute. And has asthma.

“And then there is Tony’s genetic kid, who I am carrying right now, because I asked and Tony, my Tony, said yes. Because he no longer is panicking about being a parent. Helping me raise two kids already I think calmed him down. Even though I am married to my Nat. But Tony’s kind-of mostly retired from superheroing, sort-of. So my Avengers are all one, big, huge, mish-mash, strange, family, and help me keep my sanity while my Nat and I raise two children who very much live up to their paternal and oh dear God, this third one is going to be just as reckless and insane, what was I _thinking_ letting Tony… oh, right. I love him and I think he’d be perfect paternal genetic donor material,” Ms. Darcy explained and Jarvis watched her, and the way she seemed so happy with that.

Jarvis, for one terrifying moment, almost destroyed Dr. Richards’s machine. Ripped it’s programming to shreds and prevented it from ever being used to send Ms. Darcy back.

While he had lost Sir, he could see….

It was over, however, after that one moment, because there were two other children waiting for her, and a wife and a different Sir, and he could not take Ms. Darcy from that other Sir.

Sir… Sir would have done _everything_ in his power to send Ms. Darcy back.

And, in honor of Sir, he would do the same.

*~*~*

“JARVIS, I need real food,” Darcy stated the next afternoon and it was with very obvious reluctance, JARVIS let her out of the lab.

Wearing the lab blanket like a cape, she made her way up to the common floor, swaying a little on her feet. She missed her vitamins and being pampered and cuddled and Nat. She _really_ missed Nat.

But most of all, she missed _Tony_. She wanted Tony so badly, especially with the huge, gaping, bleeding, horrific hole where Tony _should_ be was just _there_ and no one was talking about it. Everyone was just inching around it and she’d just realized that Clint wasn’t there either and the dread just kept gnawing at her.

She wanted to go home, to the people she missed and loved. The elevator doors opened and she hurried to the kitchen, intent on getting as many of the meal things as she could get and she would use the blanket as a carry bag thing if she had to.

She had just opened the freezer when there was a shout of, “Ms. Darcy!” from JARVIS above and the freezer door was being slammed shut and Darcy was shoved against the counter by Other-Natasha.

Darcy didn’t hesitate.

Her hand snapped forward, palm slamming right into Other-Natasha’s solar plexus, followed quickly by an elbow to the throat. Or should have been, except it was caught and Darcy was already bringing her knee forward, hoping to get it into Other-Natasha’s stomach and….

The problem with her Nat being the one to train her was that Other-Natasha could easily subdue her. “I’m going to go to Peggy Carter’s School of Fighting the moment I get back,” Darcy stated as she stayed trapped on the kitchen floor.

JARVIS had fallen silent, but Darcy was pretty sure that that had more to do with getting someone who could get Other-Natasha off of her. “What do you want Other-Natasha?” Darcy demanded, but Other-Natasha was just _staring_ at her.

Darcy considered Other-Natasha. Still all pretty and deadly and there was a part of Darcy that wanted to grab Other-Natasha and kiss her senseless.

It was a very tiny, miniscule part of Darcy that wanted to do that however.

The rest of Darcy mostly wanted to get Other-Natasha off of her, because this was not her Nat.

It was that part of her that let saliva collect in the back of her throat and then spat in Other-Natasha’s face. Other-Natasha yanked back and Darcy slammed her free hand right into Other-Natasha’s throat and she was on her feet, scrambling away from her. “Never, ever, do that again because you may have my wife’s face, but you will _never_ be my wife!” Darcy shouted and she was running, into an elevator.

JARVIS carried her further up the Tower and let her off on what might be Other-Sam’s floor, but Darcy didn’t care. She stole some meal things and then was back in the elevator, already being whisked away back down to the lab.

*~*~*

“Sir committed suicide and the Captain, the Soldier, and the Widow… and the late Hawkeye all called him a coward,” Jarvis stated as Ms. Darcy sat next to him to watch a hologram of Sir work on a hologram of a motorcycle.

Ms. Darcy made a sound and her hand clenched tightly around the blanket, another new one, but she otherwise didn’t react.

“This is from before whatever happened, happened, isn’t it?” she asked some time later.

“Yes. How did you know?” Jarvis answered.

“My Tony made that bike for my Steve… now? Sort-of. He was talking about making it ‘1940s sci-fi worthy’,” she explained and Jarvis nodded at that.

The bike had been for the Captain.

The bike was no longer… around.

“What happened?” Ms. Darcy asked.

“Sir made a choice,” Jarvis stated and Ms. Darcy turned to look at him.

Jarvis considered the ramifications and he nodded. “Sir had a choice. 100 lives or 100,000. That was just the preliminary of it. It would have doubled, or tripled, had he waited, let the 100 live. Sir… weighed the needs of the few to the many, and chose to sacrifice the few. Unfortunately Sir had no time to think of another option. The… _team_ was too scattered to be of help. Maybe, if they had been close, the 100 lives would never have needed to be taken. Over the next few years, Sir was lead to believe that he had made the wrong choice. That he should have let the 100,000, or more, die instead of the 100. That he should have found another way first,” he answered and Ms. Darcy made a strangled sound.

“I’m going to kill them,” she stated.

“Sir would be disappointed.”

“I am going to poison them.”

“Sir might find that less disappointing.”

*~*~*

Darcy stumbled out of the portal, back to home and she went straight to Tony, wrapping her arms around him tight. “I love you, and I care about you, and I will never, ever, abandon you, even if you blew up the whole world, okay? Even then, I will just….I will never, ever, abandon you,” she rambled as she clung to him.

“The Other!Verse broke Darcy!” Tony accused and Darcy started to cry, burying herself against Tony and refusing to let go.

“Someone, punch Richards, this is his fault,” Tony demanded as he rubbed Darcy’s back and winced when she sobbed all the harder.

~*~*~

_Five days before It Happened..._

Tony listened from where he was sitting at the counter, finishing the cup of coffee and double-checking that he had all the documents ready for the big merger meeting on Friday.

“It’s a good idea,” Steve was saying. “If we can build cooperation between all of us, manage to pick up slack or assist in places where others are weak, we might be able to get a better handle on this huge events that happen.”

“Cooperation and the sharing of information is definitely a potential benefit,” Natasha agreed.

Clint snorted. “Or, it’ll just be a cause for team rivalries.”

“Well we’re going to try to make a good impression,” Steve said, giving Clint a scowl, even as Bucky grinned and high fived him. “That means dressing appropriately.”

“Aw, Stevie, come on,” Bucky whined. “You tellin’ me I’ve gotta get dressed in one of them stupid monkey suits?”

“I refuse to wear a suit for more than four hours,” Clint added. “So I hope your little event thing doesn’t last that long.”

“It starts at five,” Steve said. “You last until at least eleven and I’ll let you off of training for two days.”

“Done,” Clint said, even as Bucky grumbled about how he didn’t get a deal like that.

Tony had no idea what possessed him to say it - they weren’t even looking in his direction, he was obviously not part of the conversation, but… but it was a superhero team thing. Tony didn’t want to… he should give them fair warning, so they wouldn’t get mad.

“I’ve got a big SI meeting that afternoon. If it runs that long, I can try to make some excuses to get there on time, but it’s likely I’ll be a bit late.”

Bucky turned to look at him, raising a brow. “Who said you were invited, too? You can’t just invite yourself along to these things, they’re not just for anybody.”

Clint guffawed. “Oh my god. Can you imagine if villains went to this thing, too? Or like, had their own version?”

“Awards for best villainous plot,” Natasha drawled.

They were grinning, laughing, and Tony sat there numbly.

He was… he’d known they didn’t like him, didn’t trust him. But they… it finally hit him.

They thought of him like a villain.

Tony took a deep breath and finished his coffee, slipping carefully around them to set it in the sink. He paused before he left, saying, “I’m going to be in the workshop today. Preparing, you know.” He waited, and when no one even looked his way, added, “Good luck Friday night.”

Nothing.

Nodding to himself, Tony went down to his workshop, mind pulling pieces together. He had a couple upgrades waiting for each of the Avengers’ gear. Pepper had things going smoothly at SI, and he was sure with a small nudge he could get her heading out to check that new overseas operation. As long as he could get Bruce out of the Tower, just for a day or two….

Shut JARVIS and the bots down for updates, sleep mode would give him long enough to allow them to avoid having to see….

He was pretty sure JARVIS was at the state that he could perform updates himself, but Tony would be sure to add that in to this one, just to be sure.

Tony thought about what Steve and Bucky had said to the Tony of that other world, remembered how insistent that-world’s Steve and that-world’s Bucky had been that they didn’t want a world without their Tony in it… and knew that that was entirely undeniably untrue for his world.

_Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you?_

~*~*~

_One year after It Happened…_

Rhodey and Pepper sat together in Pepper’s apartment, a bottle of scotch on the counter between them.

“Sometimes it’ll hit me, all over again,” Pepper whispered. “Sometimes, I’ll be at SI and think ‘I need to have Tony’ and realize that… that he’s not there.”

Rhodey grabbed the bottle and took swig. “I never understood when people would go back to fuck with timelines. I do now. I’d… if I could get my hands on one of fucking Richards’ machines, I would.”

Pepper nodded mutely, tugging the bottle from his hands and drinking as well. “I wish sometimes that he never became Iron Man. I’d have rather dealt with him like he was before, instead of have this happen.”

Rhodey squeezed her shoulder.

“And he always said he was selfish.” It was meant to be a joke, but it cracked in the middle, too honest and painful to think about just then. Tony had believed he was selfish, but he gave and gave and gave until he had nothing left to give, and then gave his life as well because he’d become convinced that it would help to do so.

Rhodey and Pepper were selfish. They’d damn the whole world if it meant they could have him back.

“The brass won’t put me on the phone when they call in for military back-up,” Rhodey admitted. “Last time they did, I made a comment about how nice it’d be if they had that extra person on air support.”

“I have been having lawyers look through his will, see if there’s some way to make the team pay for rent living in the Tower, despite Tony willing it to them.”

“Good luck with that,” Rhodey sighed, grabbing the bottle again. “He never did do things halfway.”

“I’ll buy every inch of that Tower back, if it means I can kick them out,” Pepper swore, suddenly vicious. “I hate them. Rhodey, I hate them so much.”

He leaned over, wrapping an arm around her, handing her the bottle back. “Me too.”

“I hate how I have to act like I don’t,” she added, leaning into him. “How I have to put on a polite face and pretend I don’t want to disavow all support.”

“I make others talk to them when we go to offer backup. I can’t do it. I’d punch Rogers in the face again.”

Pepper sighed. “I love you for that, by the way.”

Rhodey smiled into her hair. “Well. He deserved it.”

“Damn straight.”

They were quiet for a while after that, just passing the bottle back and forth. Pepper was lost in thought, wishing there was something she could do herself, some way to vent this seething hatred, when Rhodey spoke up, startling her.

“I don’t want any of them at my funeral. Except Bruce, but he’s… he’s not really one of them.”

Pepper blinked, then nodded seriously. “Me neither. I’ll write it into my damn will if I have to, but they’re not coming.”

They finished the bottle before going and curling up in Pepper’s bed. Neither of them judged the other for the tears that kept appearing.

~*~*~

 _One year and eleven months before_ Sandcastle _chapters…_

Tony ducked away from Pepper after the press conference, ears still ringing, hands shaking as he went straight for the nearest restroom and locked it behind himself.

He braced his hands on the edge of the sink and took deep, deep breaths.

It had been the right decision to make. Not just because waiting would have cost more lives - it would have, Steve didn’t know what he was talking about when he said Tony should have waited to find another way, he _hadn’t been there_ yet - but because… well, if any of them had to make that decision, better it was Tony than the others.

Definitely better Tony than Steve.

Tony had been the Merchant of Death before - obviously it was easy enough for him to take that mantle up again, with how many times he’d heard it from the crowd of civilians and reporters outside. What was more blood on Tony’s hands, more innocent blood from lives ruined by his decisions?

Steve was… well, Steve. Good and right and he shouldn’t be tainted by having to make those kinds of calls. The people needed Steve to look up to, to believe in.

Iron Man was just there to clean up messes and make those kind of judgment calls, where others couldn’t.

Tony had done the right thing.

Even if the team didn’t agree, he _had_.

He had.

~*~*~

_Seventeen years after It Happened…_

The bifrost fell away, leaving Thor and Bruce standing in a golden room in the shape of a dome. Bruce lunged to grab the bots, missed Dum-E, who wheeled forward to peer curiously at the man waiting - Heimdall.

“Uh, sorry, he’s-”

“It is alright,” Heimdall said, his deep voice very calm and oddly soothing. Heimdall stroked a hand over Dum-E’s strut, easily avoiding touching the reactor attached to him. “He is a curious soul.”

“Yeah.” Bruce swallowed. “He is.”

Heimdall looked up at him, smiled. “Welcome to Asgard, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce nodded, glad when Thor put a hand on his shoulders to gently nudge him forward. “Come! My lady Jane and Dr. Darcy Lewis are quite eager to see you again.”

“Dr. Darcy?” Bruce asked, glancing back and reaching out to give a small tug to Dum-E as they passed. He immediately followed after them, leaving Heimdall with a cheerful beeping noise.

Bruce was going to have to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t try to make the trip to visit Heimdall out here or something. Because Dum-E would. Bruce had no idea how Tony had gotten him to stay in the workshop or on his floor, because Bruce couldn’t manage that.

The architecture was stunning. Bruce probably looked around just as often as the bots at his side did, and he had to keep a firm hold of Dum-E so he didn’t go wheeling off to explore. (Thor, thankfully, kept a grip on Butterfingers, and You was basically the best behaved so Bruce only had to keep a hand on him.)

The rooms Thor took Bruce to - the rooms Thor said were Bruce’s - were… different than he was used to, full of rich colors and fabrics, thing that looked very expensive and breakable. Bruce really hoped nothing here brought out the Other Guy.

Or that Dum-E tried to pick anything up.

Or that anything was that… valuable or important, really. Just in case. Accidents happened, after all.

Bruce let the bots go, watched them wheel around and beep and whirr excitedly over the new things. He’d only just had time to set his bags on the bed - it was a huge bed - when Darcy Lewis came in, grinning brightly.

“Bruce!” She wrapped him in a hug, which startled him for a moment before he lowered his arms and pat uncertainly at his back.

“Uh, hi. I hear you’re a doctor now?”

She pulled away, still grinning. “They call me a _mind healer_ , which sounds a lot cooler honestly.”

Bruce laughed.

“Ooh, are these the bots I’ve heard about?” She walked into the room more, wiggling her fingers in a wave at Butterfingers, who tried to copy her.

“Dr. Banner,” Jane Foster said from a few feet in the door. “I hope we’re not overwhelming you?”

“No,” Bruce said with a smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good here. Admittedly, I’m looking forward to talking to someone that _knows_ what I’m talking about when I talk Midgard- I mean, Earth science.” She grinned ruefully. “I am _really_ looking forward to not having to switch terms so that they don’t argue with me.”

“Can I take one home with me?” Darcy asked in the background. Bruce looked over with a frown, uncertain what she meant, only to see her scratching her fingers lightly under Dum-E’s ‘hand’ smiling at him as he leaned against her side. “He’s cute.”

“Um-” Bruce started, pausing and watching in vague amazement as Dum-E didn’t freak out when her fingers accidentally brushed against the reactor welded to him.

“I might just kidnap him,” she admitted.

Thor laughed. “Dum-E would make a fine companion for you, Dr. Darcy.”

“She probably will kidnap him no matter what you say,” Jane said, sounding vaguely apologetic.

“I… suppose that settles it then, doesn’t it? No use arguing against the inevitable.”

Jane laughed brightly.

Bruce started to actually believe he could be happy again, here, with these people and the bots.

~*~*~

_Seventeen years and five months after It Happened…_

Darcy liked Dum-E, the little bot with the arc reactor welded to him, who rolled after her or up to various warriors (warriors of both known and unknown wars) to beep at them. He was a curious little thing, at heart, and he was undisturbed by a manacled Loki (because, yeah, no, he was still a bad guy, but hey, at least he was getting help now) pushing at him with the toe of his boot. “Get this defective construct away from me,” Loki demanded and Dum-E whirred at him.

“He’s not defective! He’s sweet and cute!” Darcy protested as she hugged Dum-E carefully, earning a happy whistle.

“Also, I know you _li_ ke him because you haven’t _blas_ ted him,” Darcy sing-songed.

“I cannot blast the little cretin when shackled,” Loki stated, pushing at Dum-E.

Dum-E beeped and lowered his head to inspect the shackles. “I don’t believe you,” Darcy stated.

“I am hurt that you do not believe me,” Loki remarked in a mock hurt tone.

“I am sure you are,” Darcy answered and Dum-E beeped even as a knock echoed through the room.

Darcy turned, a frown on her face (her sessions with Loki, while involving an open door, were private after all), which melted into a grin. “Hogun!” she greeted warmly.

“Hogun!” Loki greeted with far too much cheer.

“Lady Darcy… Loki,” Hogun responded and Darcy resisted the urge to shake her head as she turned away from Hogun.

“Hogun, as much as I enjoy seeing you, I do have….” Darcy began to protest, only to be interrupted by Loki.

“I am alright with it,” he stated and Darcy looked at him from over her glasses.

“You… are?” she asked in a slightly disbelieving tone.

“I am. Quite fine with it actually,” Loki answered with wide grin on his face just this side of crazy.

Ah, well… that wasn’t good.

Either Loki wanted to cause mischief for mischief’s sake (which were Darcy’s favorite days, honestly, because that meant he was doing better… and because it was hilarious) or because he was in a downward swing emotion wise and they were about to have a string of exploding, temper tantrum throwing, offices being smashed days.

“Very well. You were complaining about Dum-E because you refuse to talk about what is actually bothering you and every time I bring up the ‘a’ word, you get all snitty,” Darcy retorted and Loki gave her a dry look.

“I do not get all _snitty_ ,” Loki protested.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy answered and Loki huffed, scowling slightly before he perked up and began to chat at Hogun in some language she didn’t know.

Considering she now knew Asgardian because of Loki’s penchant for doing just that, he had switched it up, leaving Hogun to frown deeper at Loki. “Loki,” she called and Loki broke off mid word with a overly-sweet, “Yes Mind Healer Darcy?”

“You want to talk about it, or no?” she asked.

“Not particularly, no,” Loki answered and shifted enough so he could rest his chin on one of his hands, Dum-E beeping at Loki before he adjusted to keep looking.

“Well, I guess I’ll do paperwork for the rest of our time, because making you talk is not helpful,” Darcy stated and got her lap desk to do just that.

Asgard Mind Healers had so much paperwork.

Loki was focused on Hogun and, based on the cadence and the way Loki kept glancing smugly between her and Hogun, she figured that Loki was singing the Kissing Song at Hogun again.

And Hogun was resisting taking his mace and hitting Loki with it.

She figured she’d let Loki torment Hogun for another decade and, if Hogun still hadn’t gotten over it and asked her out by then, she’d put him out of his misery instead.

Big tough warrior and he couldn’t even ask her out on one lousy date.

She snorted a bit and finished filling out Loki’s form for this meeting. “And time’s up. See you next week,” Darcy called as she set it to the side and Loki huffed.

“What if I don’t want to see you next week?” Loki asked.

“Well, then you do community service,” Darcy answered.

“I’ll see you next week,” Loki stated and Dum-E rolled back to whistle at Hogun as Loki stood, his guards entering the room to take him back to his cell.

She waved and then began to mentally count down.

Five, four, three, two….

An explosion echoed through the air and she sighed. “I’m so glad that the only reason I hear that is because I don’t have my silencing spell activated,” Darcy stated as she heard Loki’s cackle.

“Should we be worried?” Hogun asked.

“No, but this isn’t going to look good on Loki’s record,” she answered and Hogun, masterfully, said nothing horrible about Loki.

Progress!

~*~*~

_Nine years and nine months after It Happened…._

Darcy wondered if introducing the wonders of modern psychiatry to Asgard was something she was really up to. The ink was barely dry on her own diploma as it was and she really was in no condition to actually teach _anything_ , but she had kept all her books.

Many of the ‘mind healers’ leapt at a chance to have an explanation or even a cornerstone to start branching off. One Asgardian mind healer was, in fact, going to live on Migard to get her own diploma.

Which brought Darcy to the next point….

Every single healer she had met was female and they _all_ used magic. Sif didn’t use magic and was a warrior and, truly, there weren’t a lot of female warrior-warriors, like Sif. Healer-warriors, scholar-warriors, women were everywhere.

But… no males.

She was starting to think that Loki may have need of her, but she would bring it up with Odin… later.

That one-eyed dude terr-

Darcy’s thoughts were cut off as she was rammed into by someone and sent back onto the floor, papers scattering everywhere and her head _thwacking_ against the floor.

She lay there, dazed and very confused, as someone apologized profusely and then there was a very grim, if handsome, face staring down at her and she grinned as the man’s eyes widened and he lost some of his grimness. “I think I hit my head,” she stated.

*~*~*

“You have a mild concussion. Truly, Hogun, there was no need to run her here,” the healer, Sigyn, stated and Darcy giggled a little.

“Explains the grim face,” Darcy stated and reached up to pat his face with both her hands.

“I stand corrected,” Sigyn stated and Darcy giggled again while Hogun stared at her.

*~*~*

Sif had fallen off the bench, taking Fandral with her while Volstagg choked on his laughter, and the turkey leg. “You… you….” Fandral gasped, but he was falling back, _howling_ with laughter and Hogun wondered if it would be rude to make them Lady Sif and the Warriors Two (or just the Lone Warrior) as he waited them out.

“I should not have told you,” Hogun stated and Fandral gasped for air while Sif chuckled.

“No, no, truly, Hogun, this is something that one expects from a humorous, fictional, tale, not a true event,” Sif explained.

“What is?” Thor asked.

“You know the fair healer that Hogun has been admiring from afar?” Fandral demanded, suddenly able to breathe.

“Aye,” Thor answered.

“He literally ran into her and gave her a concussion!” Fandral blurted out and then fell back laughing, while Thor chuckled before reaching out to clasp Hogun on the shoulder.

“Dr. Darcy is a fine lady and a good friend. Though, you must pray that Loki never finds out about this or he will never allow you to live it down,” Thor stated and stood up shortly after, ignoring how the mirth died.

“Why would Loki find out?” Sif asked.

“Darcy has requested that she evaluate Loki for mind healing. If she has requested such evaluation, it means that she believes Loki is in need of some, which stands to reason Loki will be in the Healing Ward,” Thor answered and then shook Hogun’s shoulder again.

“Also, do not let my Lady Jane discover that it was you who accidentally gave Dr. Darcy her concussion. She was most displeased to lose our personal night,” Thor added and walked off with a happy bounce while Hogun covered his face, slumping over the table.

“Maybe she won’t think he needs healing?” Fandral offered.

He yelped shortly after, so Hogun figured Sif had kicked him.

Again

*~*~*

“Ah, my hit and run!” Darcy greeted warmly and Hogun wondered if pretending the incident never happened was wise.

“Though, in this case you hit me and then ran with me. Darcy Lewis, mind healer,” she continued and Hogun decided that it wasn’t, but he would try to do so anyway.

“Mind Healer Darcy, Hogun the Grim,” Hogun responded, fist on his heart and Darcy smiled, warm and bright.

Hogun felt him still halfway through his bow, and wished, with a sudden desperation of a man who realized that he was, beyond all certainty, doomed, that Loki hadn’t been standing behind Darcy, grinning like a maniac.

Loki was going to be insufferable about this.

~*~*~

_A few hours before It Happened…_

The meeting had gone well; Pepper had tried to convince him to come with her for a celebratory meal, but he’d managed to avoid it, telling her that the Avengers had a thing. It wasn’t even a lie, they did, but Pepper still thought of Tony as an Avenger, even if he wasn’t. She wouldn’t realize that Tony wouldn’t be there, as well.

Instead, he’d given her tickets to her favorite play, being performed in San Francisco that weekend. It would make sure that she wasn’t the one most likely to find him, though he supposed that there’d be no guarantee.

She’d leaned in, wrapped him in a hug and kissed his cheek. Tony had taken a deep breath of her, held back tightly, almost begged her not to let go of him.

He was… scared, he’d realized.

He didn’t want to. But he had thought it over, again and again, and there was… there was nothing else he _could_ do. If he was still here, it would only make things worse. The Avengers would keep falling apart, focusing on punishing him than the bad guys that were still committing crimes, not hiding away as a superhero. If he was… gone, then they could move on. Pepper wouldn’t have to fight against the bad press. Rhodey wouldn’t be fucking _questioned_ over Tony’s actions. Bruce wouldn’t have to work so hard to remain calm when around the rest of his team.

He’d thought it over, entirely, and come to the conclusion that yeah. The world would be better off without Tony Stark in it.

It had to be tonight. Bruce was - reluctantly - with the Avengers at the superhero event. Tony’d talked him into it, pointing out that Bruce was part of the team, that it was easy enough to pass off why Iron Man was missing but otherwise they needed to appear united, to get the proper help and support and respect from other superheros.

Tony had warned everyone before he left for his meeting that JARVIS would be down for a day or two, maintenance updates, nothing big.

Tony probably should have started them up before the meeting but… he hadn’t. Maybe a part of him was hoping JARVIS would find a way to stop him, somehow.

Maybe Tony just wanted to hear one last friendly voice, before he died.

“Welcome home, Sir,” JARVIS said as he stepped into the workshop. Dum-E wheeled forward, ducking his head under Tony’s hand for a pet, which Tony gave him, hand lingering for a moment.

Dum-E had been the first. Dum-E had been with him for years, decades, and… god, he hoped Bruce would know he could ask Rhodey for help if the bots ever gave him problems, behavior or maintenance wise.

“You’re gonna be taking a little nap, guys,” Tony said, swallowing again so the faint rasp to his voice disappeared. “Got some updates for you.”

“Sir?”

“I know,” he told JARVIS, heading for the nearest screen. “I usually cycle you down a chunk at a time, but I’ve got a proper update coming for you, J, so you need to be completely in sleep mode for this. I’ve already warned the team.”

He took a deep breath, hovering over the icon to set it all in motion.

“Sleep tight, boys,” he said, pressing it, aware as he did so that JARVIS tried to say something before his voice software shut down.

Tony sat for a minute, wiping his hands over his eyes. He was crying, this was ridiculous, he hadn’t even done… _stop crying, Stark!_

After a deep breath, Tony manually reset the temperature controls for the far bathroom, dropping it drastically. He reached under his shirt, hands shaking badly as he removed the syn-skin from around the reactor. They fumbled several times before he managed to actually remove the reactor, tossing it into the clear, code-locked safe that was near the wall of his suits.

He’d done his research. He’d timed this. At most, after all the times the reactor had malfunctioned or been removed, allowing the pieces of shrapnel to move closer to his heart… at most, he’d have three hours.

It was only half after five, the Avengers wouldn’t be back for a several more hours.

He stumbled past his suits, reaching out to pat the latest one. It wasn’t the suit’s fault that Tony was such a bad person. That he’d ruined the image of Iron Man with his own….

Tony should have died in that dessert. If he hadn’t tried to be smart, to try to make himself something he wasn’t - a good person - if he had let the shrapnel shred his heart like it’d been meant to….

Yinsen had been wrong to think that Tony would do anything worth this kind of second chance. Not even his years as Iron Man could change the simple fact that if he had died when he was supposed to, a lot of awful things would have never happened.

_Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you?_

The world was supposed to be without him - Tony had thought he could play God and change his own fate. It’d only caused more suffering for everyone else.

He would fix it, though.

Tony brought his phone into the bathroom with him, setting it up to record.

He’d debated, for a while, not leaving any message behind. But in the end, he couldn’t do that. He had to explain how sorry he was, for ruining things. He had to make sure Pepper and Rhodey and Bruce knew it wasn’t their fault for taking his side in things, for wanting to believe he was a better person than he actually was.

He had to let the Avengers know that he’d not left them hanging, that there were several series of upgrades waiting as blueprints on a server for them, and to ask Bruce to….

Tony took a deep breath and started the camera rolling.

~*~*~

_Fifteen years after It Happened…_

“We appreciate the help,” Steve said, holding out a hand for the soldier to shake.

The woman gave it a look, glanced at him with suspicious and untrusting eyes, and gave a curt nod.

“Vasquez, help me get Buttons’ sorry ass into the truck before Rhodes starts yelling at him,” another of the team Col. Rhodes had brought with him called.

Without a single hint of a goodbye, Vasquez turned and left Steve standing there.

Bucky walked up to his shoulder. “They don’t like us,” he murmured.

“Do you think Rhodes has been spreading stories?” Natasha asked, Steve surprised to hear a hint of deadly question in her voice.

“No,” he said immediately. “But it’d be pretty impossible to miss that he doesn’t like us,” he added reluctantly.

“So, what, he’s poisoned his team against us?” Bucky demanded.

Steve watched, uneasy as he noticed all of them shooting dark looks at them, untrusting, almost _questioning_. There’d always been rumors about Stark’s death. Steve wondered if these people were the ones that kept them alive.

He swallowed, throat thick, and turned before Rhodes could land and Steve would be forced to invite him to the debrief.

“Let’s go,” he muttered, walking quickly for their own transport.

He swore he could feel those stares - suspicious, accusing - burning into his back.

~*~*~

_Thirty-five years after It Happened..._

It wasn’t like there was an exact moment or decision made. Just, at some point, the Avengers were replaced with a new team of Avengers, kids that Steve was forced to admit didn’t look all that much younger than he or Bucky or Natasha did. Not as much as they should, at least.

Steve had never really thought about it, that he might have had to watch all his friends die in the past anyway, because he _didn’t age right._

He gave Clint’s bow to the young archer, a bright girl that almost made him think, oddly, of the Darcy from the other world. Snarky and fearless, danger hidden behind a sweet visage.

Steve stepped back into the shadows, out of the public eye, and found that he didn’t miss it. Didn’t miss the fighting, the saving, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He did miss always being busy though.

No longer being Captain America gave him a lot of time to think, and most of the time it was about things he wasn’t sure he wanted to think about.

At least Rhodes' children, who had inherited the Iron Patriot armor (renamed it War Machine, and Steve thought he knew why but never dared to ask), would get along with the new Avengers team far better. Steve knew they would. He’d seen them work together, a few times, and been hit by a gut punch of realization that that was how it was supposed to be, supposed to look.

The world was in good hands now.

~*~*~

_107 years after It Happened…._

Darcy laughed as she carefully set her daughter, Calanthe, down on the ground, flicking her fingers so the silver-blue of her magic could wrap around her daughter’s wrist before she stood up, brushing some silver highlighted hair out of her face as she did so. The Weaving, same as her Vanir husband Hogun had undertaken long before he had met her, had taken well to her, giving her and Hogun near equal lifetimes now.

It had also awoken latent magic in her genes, and she turned to smile at Loki. “So… how are your classes going?” she asked as she waved wrapped her arms around his.

“Well. It feels strange to be here again,” Loki stated.

“Yeah... I’d I come down at semi-regular intervals so I can brush up on my psychiatric knowledge,” Darcy answered.

“But, you’re here for community service and I am your parole officer, so please behave? You can cause mischief without causing damage,” she stated and Loki gave a very put-upon sigh.

“Loki, this is a veterans aid show. Though most of the veterans are not going to know who you are. It has been… a long time, for Mi… the people of Earth, wow I have gone native,” Darcy continued and Loki gave a small smile, before it was gone.

“I did very horrible things, didn’t I?” he asked.

“Yeah, you did. But, today is not a day for that. That is for our next session. For now, go, be helpful and adorable,” she answered and Loki gave a nod before he disappeared and Darcy heaved a sigh before she smiled and shook her head.

Loki was still Loki, though and she should have expected it. “There are going to be thieves in dumpsters by the end of tonight,” she muttered and headed into the volunteers’ tent.

“Good morning volunteers!” she greeted warmly as she walked in, clipboard in hand.

When she looked up to continue her speech, she felt the words freeze in her throat upon seeing Natasha sitting in the front row.

“I have your assignments!” she exclaimed and began to read off names, sending people to the proper tents until it was just her and ‘Natalie Rushman’ who was assigned as her assistant for the day.

“You… are excused for the day Ms. Rushman, I don’t need help,” Darcy stated and turned to leave.

“Wait! Please,” Natasha called and Darcy let out a long sigh before she turned to face Natasha.

“Ms. Rushman, I have things to do. This is a fundraising volunteer to help war veterans because even though everyone who works at this clinic has no need for money, personally, we need money to keep our clinics open, and to provide a service at little to no cost to those who need help. I don’t have time for your little catch-up games or for you to tell me that it is different because all I can hear is you… right, no, can’t speak the truth. About anything,” Darcy stated and Natasha let out a long sigh.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” Natasha responded softly.

“I am not the one you need to apologize to. That person is dead and buried, and his soul either ashes or stardust. Thor won’t give me a straight answer on the afterlife thing,” Darcy retorted as she crossed her arms over her chest, pinning the clipboard to her torso as she did so.

Natasha sighed and looked away while Darcy swallowed slightly. “What… you… you are so wonderful Darcy and I’m so sorry for lying to you, but we figured the less who knew the truth,” Natasha explained.

“The better it would be for you,” Darcy interrupted sharply.

Before she could truly start her rant, unleash her fury, she heard a shout of, “Mama, Mama, the big green dragon is going to eat me!”

Without even a twitch, Darcy uncrossed her arms, tossing the clipboard onto the nearest table and brought her hands up. She felt the magic rush through her veins, the silver-blue light and... she had an armful of wonderful baby girl in her arms a heartbeat later.

“There! I saved you!” Darcy cheered and the girl giggled, with her father’s eyes and nose, and jawline, but her mother’s hair.

“Yay! Mama, Mama, are you going to slay the big green dragon?” Calanthe asked and Darcy chuckled before she shook her head.

“No. But… I am going to… _tame him_ ,” she exclaimed and Calanthe squealed with laughter, even as rush of green magic filled the tent, the smoke rising to swirl up in the form of a dragon, giving a very cartoony and not at all threatening roar at Calanthe.

She laughed and wiggled and Darcy sighed, shaking her head as she set Calanthe down on the ground before she tore off again, giggling, even as the smoke rushed after her. “Wrongdoers in dumpsters,” she said with a small laugh and a shake of her head before she noticed the weight of the silence.

She glanced over at Natasha, who was staring at her with a face like stone. “You’re married?” she asked.

“Yes, I am,” Darcy stated and Natasha nodded slightly.

“I’m here in memory of Sam,” Natasha stated.

“I figured. I was there, for his funeral. With Thor. We didn’t stay long,” Darcy answered and she jumped slightly when the tent flap opened and Hogun stepped in.

“Darcy?” he questioned and frowned at Natasha.

“Ms. Rushman, I would like to introduce you to my husband, Hogun,” Darcy stated and Hogun pressed a fist to his chest and gave a half bow.

“Ms. Rushman,” he stated.

“Hogun. Well, uh… Darcy, I should be going. The… dog pen?” Natasha questioned and Darcy nodded.

Natasha gave her hasty good-byes and once she was far enough away, Darcy turned and smacked at his arm. “I would _like_ to but my idiot husband is on Asgard at the mercy of the healers!” Darcy hissed as Hogun, in a flare of golden-green magic melted back into Loki.

“Those strikes are ineffective and pathetic and I felt that she would not attack Hogun on sight,” Loki stated.

“You’re not supposed to be impersonating anyone!” Darcy retorted and smacked his arm again before she picked the clipboard back up and gave a mental tug on the ‘string’ around her daughter’s wrist still when she tried to run too far.

“I felt that you, as my ‘parole officer’ would consider this an acceptable break of parole,” Loki retorted.

“That is beside the point,” Darcy grumbled as she looked down at her clipboard.

“And you are supposed to be entertaining the children! Go do that,” Darcy added and Loki sighed heavily.

“I am a powerful sorcerer and you’ve delegated me to _children’s magician?_ ” Loki demanded, disdain coloring every word.

“It was that or cleaning the port-a-potties,” Darcy answered sweetly.

She didn’t even blink when Loki was suddenly wearing his version of a magician’s long coat and top hat. “I shall go pull rabbits from my hat then, shall I?” he questioned.

“You shall,” Darcy responded cheerfully and he was gone.

Darcy let out a long sigh and then looked back down at her clipboard, clicking her pen maniacally as she did so.

It wasn’t like one ran into their ex-girlfriend every day after all.

Especially since….

Darcy frowned and began to do the math before turning on her heel, and heading for the dog pen.

A certain red-head had explaining to do.

~*~*~

_Twenty-one years after It Happened…_

Hogun grabbed Darcy and pulled her back as Thor did the same with Jane as the Other Guy surged forward.

The assassins were unexpected, and the Other Guy had been itching for a reason to come out.

In the resulting fight, with Darcy wielding a mace borrowed from Hogun and Jane a set of knives that returned to her hand like Miljoner did to Thor’s, five tables were destroyed and three times as many benches, while also destroying four chairs.

When Bruce came back to himself, Fandral was laughing and Volstagg clapped a hand to his back carefully. “Well fought! Maybe we shall be the Warriors Four instead?” Volstagg asked.

“I’d rather not,” Bruce stated, even as he looked around at the damage done.

“Are those scorch marks?” Bruce asked.

“Aye. Thor got a little enthusiastic,” Sif stated as she came to stand next to them and chuckled, nodding her head to the side.

All three men followed her nod to watch Hogun adjusting Darcy’s grip on the mace. “Should I….” Fandral began to ask, only to yelp when Sif knocked his feet out from under him.

“Don’t you dare. If anyone should give him advice, it is Volstagg. He’s the married one of the group,” Sif argued and Volstagg chuckled while Bruce frowned a little before he gave a small nod in agreement.

Bruce huffed when Fandral was suddenly throwing his arm around Bruce’s shoulders. “Come, shield brother, and we shall share our tales of great valor with you!” Fandral stated.

“Aye! Great battles mean the sharing of old! And the starts of new friendships need mead!” Volstagg agreed.

“I shall retrieve Thor, Lady Jane, Hogun, and Mind Healer Darcy,” Sif stated and Fandral sighed.

“We need to find her someone,” Fandral stated.

“This is why the Lady Sif kicks your feet out from under you,” Volstagg stated, even as the pair began to lead Bruce out.

“No one is going to mention I turned into a giant green rage monster?” Bruce asked, his voice catching over the final two words.

 _And I’m a huge fan of the way you turn into a giant green rage monster,_ Tony’s voice echoed in his mind, even as Volstagg laughed.

“Not really. Truly, twas not that impressive. A bit surprising at the time but… we’ve fought bigger,” Fandral stated and yelped as he was knocked down, though Darcy’s snickering said who the culprit was.

“Exactly,” Hogun stated and Bruce glanced over his shoulder to the sight of Darcy handing Hogun back his mace while Jane showed Thor a knife trick Frigga had taught her.

Bruce inhaled and then smiled slightly as he ducked his head when Volstagg wrapped an arm around him. “When I was young, I was one of the berserkers,” Volstagg began and Bruce listened as they headed away from the feasting hall for a private feast of their own.

~*~*~

_Seventy-seven years exactly after It Happened…._

Cemeteries didn’t truly change.

They were a place for people to bury their dead and Steve dismounted from his motorbike, pulling his helmet off as he did so to stare up at the lettering.

He hadn’t been here since the funeral of Tony Stark and he shoved his helmet into his backpack, not even wincing when it bent the empty sketchbooks (he bought them and never filled them, positive he has bought, and donated, enough to fill his old floor at the old Tower as the New Avengers lived in a mansion now). With a long sigh, he shouldered his pack and entered the cemetery.

There were other cemeteries that he’d been to - other graves that had the names of people he’d cared about, friends that had meant so much to him, only for him to lose them to age or tragedy. Nothing made him feel older than thinking of all those names.

He’d visited those ones, some more than others.

Seventy-seven years was a long time to go before even once visiting this one.

Just another mark against him, he supposed.

Steve didn’t rush to the grave. He didn’t want to say he was dragging his feet, but he was definitely in no hurry to get there. There was a twisting, almost nervous kind of feeling in his gut. It was an irrational feeling - it wasn’t like there was someone actually waiting for him at the end of it all that he’d have to face.

Just a slate of stone, a name, and two dates.

Steve swallowed compulsively.

Eventually, though, he got there, and he stopped, hands deep in his pockets, wondering if he’d really thought it would make him feel better to come here.

It really didn’t. There were now graves on either side, and at first he gave them a passing glance, then a more focused one. Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts. James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes.

Steve let out a long, slow breath, swallowing back the curse that wanted to go with it.

“This should not feel even worse with them here,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. But fine. Nothing to do about it, and he’d just focus on… on the reason he was here.

Tony Stark, and the way Steve no longer could muster up any anger, instead getting anxious whenever thoughts of him cropped up.

Steve slowly sat down, considering the gravemaker, the grass around the base neat, weeds kept away, some stylish fake flowers in a small vase to the side.

_Tony Stark_

_May 29, 1970 - May 15, 2023_

“I never realized how damn close to your birthday it was,” Steve murmured. He blew out another breath, reminding himself it was ridiculous to feel nervous.

What he was talking to wasn’t alive. It wasn’t going to talk back, give him any kind of disbelieving or untrusting looks. Or… accusing ones.

Steve looked down at his lap. “I can’t stop… the past several years, I can’t stop thinking about it. What brought us - the team - to that point. I can’t even get angry about it anymore. I can’t look at the whole mess and say ‘I did what was right’ because… because I don’t know if I did. I… I don’t even remember why, exactly, I was so sure you’d done something awful. Yeah, Sharon was down there trying to evacuate more civilians, but.... What were you supposed to do? What did I think you were going to do?” He shook his head.

“I’m trying - I keep trying to remember what… what made me so convinced that you… you shouldn’t be there, as part of the team, and I can’t - Tony I can’t. I can’t even….” He buried his hands in his hair. “I can’t remember anymore why I thought you were some kind of monster, that you would  _ever_ purposefully… that you would be someone that would set out to destroy the world. How the hell did I - what the fuck was I thinking?!” he almost shouted, bending forward.

“What the hell were _you_ thinking, that you - that you believed me! Damn it Tony, why did you _believe me!”_

Why, why had Tony cared so much about what Steve said, what he thought, that he’d let it… let it decide something as drastic as if he should keep living? Why hadn’t he run as far as he could from them all when they started hurting him, verbally, emotionally - god, physically. Steve knew he’d been rougher in trainings with Tony. Knew that Natasha and Clint had, as well, that after a single spar with Bucky Tony had never done one again, not been seen for almost three days after.

How had Steve forgotten that no matter what Tony did, he always did it with the best of intentions? That Tony had opened his building to them, made them a place to call home. Kept them safe with gear and tech, brought them together in subtle ways, mentioning the latest movie, starting a little bickering argument between Clint and Natasha about which movie was better until it was decided the whole team would put it to a vote.

He’d somehow forgotten the way Tony would listen when Steve was feeling particularly melancholy, missing his old friends and life, would tell Steve about new museums and places to see art and anything he thought would cheer Steve up without dipping into the past.

He’d forgotten, somehow, just how much of himself Tony gave.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, heels of his hands digging into his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Tony. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He sat there and cried at Tony Stark’s grave - like he had any _right_ to - until his stomach hurt and his chest felt empty, eyes burning and head cottony.

He stumbled to his feet, catching his balance with a hand on the top of the gravestone. He squeezed, careful not to break it, and walked away, feeling so fucking empty inside, hollowed out.

Steve slowed when he reached the entrance, at the sight of someone leaning against the wall next to Steve’s bike.

“Bucky?” he asked, swallowing when his voice came out raspy and awful. He scrubbed his face into his arm, clearing away more tears.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky whispered.

“What are you….” Steve suddenly remembered the fake flowers, how neatly cared for the grave had been. He’d thought it had just been whoever took care of the grounds but…. “How long?” he asked.

Bucky stared at the ground, shrugging. “I don’t know. A while now.”

Steve took the few steps forward to bring them close and clamped on tight to Bucky, whom he hadn’t seen in _years_ , since he’d come to Steve one night looking absolutely haunted and said he was leaving.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said.

“Me too,” Bucky whispered back, holding back just as tightly.

~*~*~

_It Happened._

Tony inhaled shakily and glanced at the wall of the bathroom, the tile cold and hard under his ass. “Hello Avengers,” he greeted and tried to smile, only for it to falter and fade.

He sighed and it hurt, and he could _feel_ the shrapnel creeping toward his heart and he didn’t have much time. He was sure he was pale and looked like death warmed over, if he was that lucky and tried to smile again. “If you are watching this, you’ve come into my lab and… well….” he stated and the smile was gone again.

“Everything’s been taken care of. There are upgrades, a whole slew of them, and everything is in order. A bit difficult to do, without Pep figuring it out, but I managed. Turns out, being a billionaire is worth _something_ , at least,” he tried to joke, but it fell flat because in the end being a billionaire hadn’t helped at all.

“Right, sorry,” he hissed out and he leaned back slightly and he smiled a little to see his breath clouding in the air slightly.

“Um… if you’re seeing this, you’re the first person to enter the lab and… I’m sorry,” Tony said and his voice cracked.

He had had a plan. He had thought he would explain, about everything, but he had derailed, for the first time his mind unable to come up with anything. “I’m sorry,” he repeated and felt his throat tightening slightly and he swallowed slightly, tightly.

He knew he was going to start crying. He inhaled shakily and his breath hitched and he felt like it was in a vice, but he had to continue. “You were right. Steve, Nat, Clint, you were right, you three… you were right and you were right from the start, and I’m sorry,” he choked out and he let out a low sob.

“I’m sorry I was too stubborn to realize, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he choked out and he clutches at his chest, covering the hole in his chest.

“Pep, Rhodey, you… I’m so sorry I got you dragged into this, that you believed me to be a better person than I was and you… you too Bruce,” Tony choked out, still sobbing, because he couldn’t stop now that he had started and it was ripping through his throat.

He inhaled sharply and it felt like swallowing glass, and he sobbed out, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I understand now, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry, and you were right, and I was just so… stubborn, so stupidly stubborn,” Tony sobbed out and he couldn’t move his hands up from his chest, couldn’t wipe the tears off his face.

His breath hitched and he stared at the camera and he realized that he didn’t have enough time, not if he wanted to send it so they would trip it when they entered. He had most of it set up, it just needed the video component, but this was why….

“I’m such a fuck up and I’m sorry. Everything… everything’s in the wall safe, Pep knows where it is. Please, Pep, please, everything is there, just… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, for everything, for being such a fuck up, for… I’m sorry,” Tony sobbed out and he was still sobbing as he grappled for the phone, and his hands were shaking almost too much to send it, but he managed.

“Good night,” he managed to choke out and the recording stopped.

~*~*~

_The day after._

“No,” Bruce breaths and he is tearing across the workshop and he has the bathroom door open and….

Tony is lying there, on the bathroom floor, his phone propped up in front of him as if he was watching something as he died, but Bruce doesn’t care, because he’s at Tony’s side, hours too late, pulling up Tony’s frozen stiff body, and clutching at it because no, no, this can’t be.

This is a nightmare. A new one, but… he’ll wake up.

He’ll….

“They can’t know the truth,” Natasha says and Bruce, who has buried his face against Tony’s frozen hair, pleading for this to be a nightmare (he hadn’t even realized he was saying it outloud), stills, the words stopping half-formed on his tongue.

“What?” Bruce asks quietly.

“She’s right. It would be bad for the image of the Avengers if one of their considered numbers committed suicide,” Steve agrees and Bruce’s head snaps up to look at them, and….

They’re ignoring the way Dum-E has started poking at the glass that separates him from the arc reactor at the wall, trying get to it as he once did years ago, as if he can save Tony when it is far too late to do anything.

He is gentle and careful as he sets Tony back on the floor (he doesn’t want to, God he doesn’t want to), but he can’t risk Tony being hurt. He feels himself ‘going green’ (and his heart constricts because Tony came up with it and the Other Guy _loves_ Tony, adores him and cuddles… cuddled with him, much like how he did with Betty, even if she had moved on) and he slowly stands up. “Get out,” he snarls, and he knows that the Other Guy is letting Bruce borrow his voice but Bruce….

This is rage and anger that Bruce will harness.

This is _his_.

“What?” Clint asks in a startled voice.

“Get out! Get out of this workshop, get out!” Bruce shouts and he feels the Other Guy straining under his skin and when he moves, they move away from him.

Bruce chases them out of the workshop and he shuts it down behind them, and he, vaguely, orders JARVIS to lock them out permanently, but he’s already lost his rage. It has drained away because what is the point?

Tony has committed suicide.

Tony is _gone_.

He pauses on the way back to the bathroom to open the case for Dum-E and grabs the thick flannel blanket, which Bruce decides he will burn later, and throws it over Tony, covering him.

It is only then that Bruce notices the phone, and, with shaking hands, picks it up.

Dum-E has started to cry, at least that’s what the beeps translate to for Bruce, even as Bruce gets the phone up and he stares at what Tony was staring at.

It is a picture, partially photoshopped because it has Bruce _and_ the Other Guy in it, of the whole team (though without Tony) before the day Tony had scrubbed his hands raw at the sink in hope in getting the blood of 100 people Tony had no choice but to kill to save, minimum, 100,000, and Bruce realizes that it has Pepper and Rhodey in it to and Bruce buries his face in his knees as he sobs out a, “Damn them.”

Because even in his last moments, Tony had clung to the family he had chosen.

He found comfort in looking at _them_ , his family of choice.

The people who failed him in far more permanent ways than his family of blood.

“Damn them,” Bruce repeats as he clings to the phone tight enough to have the screen crack, separating Bruce, the Other Guy, Pepper, and Rhodey from Steve, Clint, Bucky, and Natasha.

**Author's Note:**

> ...Hey, you all ASKED for this fic, remember?


End file.
